


Angels Don't Wear Wings

by subwaywall



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Completed, Cutting, Eren - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Levi - Freeform, M/M, Mikasa Ackerman-centric, Mikasa/Annie - Freeform, Self Harm, Slow Build, Unrequited love (poor petra), amazazing, annie is erwin's niece, attack on titan - Freeform, cheater!erwin, doctor erwin, eren/levi - Freeform, hanji is a jerk, levi is a god, levi is a terrorist, levi is awesome, levi smells good, levi writes poetry, past erwin/levi - Freeform, really really slow build - Freeform, really slow buid, snk, so maybe this became more levi eren centric, some trigger, sorry - Freeform, violinist mikasa, violinist!mikasa, writer!levi, you won't regret reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 77,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subwaywall/pseuds/subwaywall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2031, and Mikasa Ackerman has been adopted by the rich owners of a law firm. Although she feels alienated by those around her, she becomes close to her adopted brother, Eren, and begins to find hope for her future. However, her slowly improving life is shattered when her conservatory is the target of a terrorist attack. She is hospitalized, Eren is missing, and her certain future is in pieces without her music and her brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bright Lights and High Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa's scarf smells like soot.

There had been a flash of light. Then silence--the sort of silence that transcended thought. Emptiness. Whiteness. And the red of the scarf that Eren had given her. 

But it didn’t smell like Eren anymore. It smelled like soot. 

She tried to get to her feet. But she lost her balance and so fell onto her knees. She did not feel the pain yet, but she was sure she would any moment. Adrenaline rushed through her, and she was aware of the gash on her forehead, her fear for Eren. The only sensation that she could actually be sure of was the burning hot stone against the palms of her hands, but she didn’t move them because she feared that she would fall. She heard the clack of high heel shoes that maneuvered around the rubble of the conservatory--towards her. But it didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. 

As the shoes got closer, her hearing and sight returned. So did the pain. She tried to stand again, as if that would prevent her from feeling it, and strangely was more successful. Her ears rang painfully, though, and she was still disconcerted, as if a barge horn had announced its presence in her ear. Her head drooped down as she tried to gain her balance and not faint, but she drew back at the sight of the blood on her knees. She tried to ignore it, but smoky, dark, liquid ran over her eyes, and followed the curve of her nose. She tasted metal and could feel her lips painted red. 

She blinked her eyes twice. Sirens sounded from all parts of town. Coming towards her. 

Like the clack of high heeled shoes. She could see the wearer of the shoes, now. But she couldn’t look at her face. She just looked at the shoes. They were the same color as Eren’s scarf. The woman was too hard to look at. Why was she so bright? 

She closed her eyes. Where was Eren? 

Sleep was generous. But the high heeled shoes kept driving her in and out of consciousness, and she couldn’t smell Eren anymore--couldn't even smell soot on her red scarf anymore--just something vaguely repellant that she couldn’t place. 

She knew she was dreaming. And she needed to do something--but she couldn’t remember what. Her mind was so slow and she couldn’t wake up--


	2. The Day Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then they left,   
> one by one,   
> And then they fled,   
> 'til there were none.

“Mikasa!” She turned around to face the source of the muffled voice. “You locked me in!” Eren was always slow to get out of the car. She smiled, and waved the keys at Eren--acting as if she wouldn’t let him out. Mikasa always got out of the car faster than him, and it mildly annoyed her that he took so long. After a moment’s hesitation, she clicked the unlock button on the Honda Civic, and allowed Eren to spring out of the car with his backpack and sax case. 

Although she had started walking, he caught up to her quickly with his half-skip, half-run. As he caught up to her, he asked playfully, “Whatever would you do without me? You’d get awfully lonely.” Mikasa rolled her eyes and said nothing. Eren was in a good mood, so despite herself, she felt drawn out of her stress. Since she was in advanced symphony, she had an examination in the afternoon to determine their playing positions--Eren didn’t have to worry about that. 

She hoisted her bookbag further onto her shoulder, and switched the hand with which she carried her violin case. As Eren skipped past her, she snatched the edge of his backpack. 

“Going somewhere without me?” Mikasa rarely showed her playful side, but Eren had a way about him that made her feel at ease. She didn’t really feel happy unless she was around him, but when she was with him, it was easy for her to feel happy. She supposed that was because of the residue of her past, but she wasn’t sure. He was endearing in his own annoying way, after all. 

Eren swatted half-heartedly at his older sister, and Mikasa released him as they jogged up the steps to their school. They parted slightly, though, as other students poured through the hallways. The first bell must have already run, but neither Mikasa nor Eren had heard it. 

Mikasa turned right towards the advanced wing, following her classmates through the hall, while Eren turned left towards the junior program wing. It mildly disappointed her that Eren didn’t try out for the advanced program, but frankly, it was just as well: he didn’t care much for school. 

But as Eren left her this morning to join his friends, Mikasa felt an odd spinning sensation--and the sound of high heeled shoes. Her vision swam for a moment, and she heard a voice that floated on air. It murmured consolation, but she couldn’t make out the words. It was not a familiar voice, though. 

And then, she regained her balanced as the hum dissipated without a warning. She stalked almost angrily towards her first pre-conservatory class. 

English was first and they were discussing To Kill A Mockingbird. Maybe it would’ve been interesting, but Mikasa had read it freshman year of high school. But this conservatory didn’t work like normal high school--it was for 15 to 20 year olds who were interested in majoring in music, but there was a minimum core class requirement.

Her mind wandered and she stared out the window as it began to rain. Lightning flashed in the distance, but she did not hear thunder. 

The sky darkened and Mikasa sank her head against the window. She breathed out against the glass, and was thankful for the windows that spanned ceiling to floor. The glass was cold, and it helped her to relax. Still, she was left with the feeling that she had forgotten something. 

She pulled herself out of her head and focused on finding the page her class was on. She glanced over beside her, but Jean wasn’t there for some reason. She got tired of Jean, but only because he perpetually moped about being separated from his best friend Marco. It was rather comical, thought Mikasa. 

But then again, so was she. She reflected that she just observed and wrote in her notebook about the actions other people around her took, her lips splayed into a small sarcastic smile. She flipped another page, and finally arrived on the right one. 

Something distracted her, though. A hum grew in intensity. It wasn’t particularly melodic, but it was obviously a woman singing. It was odd, though--unpracticed, but sweet. Like an attempt to sing a lullaby. Mikasa surveyed the room, but failed to find its source. She wasn’t particularly surprised--she had heard most of her classmates sing in the conservatory lessons, and this voice was not a familiar one. 

She nearly laughed, though, at the woman’s merging of utterly divergent songs into one. She recognized typical eighties songs, followed by a brief snippet from Kiss from a Rose. She couldn’t make out anything else. 

Crap. She was so easily distracted. She peered forward into Ymir’s book--Ymir sat in front of her, next to Christa--but given her seating, Ymir was probably just as distracted as Mikasa was. 

And then there was the rain. She looked at the clock, then back out the window, and at the clock again, as she heard her classmates start to zip up their bags and put their materials away. 

Thirty seconds to the bell. She slipped her books into her bag and waited for it to ring. 

She didn’t hear it ring, though. Everyone else must have, because they got up to leave--but she didn’t. She merely followed them, glancing out the window as she left. She heard thunder, but didn’t see lightning. 

The class left the room. She was the last to leave, which was unusual, but she was after all unusually distracted today. She mused that it was odd how quiet the room seemed, but she shook her head before she thought she heard something else. 

A few hours later, she waited in front of the potted pine tree in the hallway in between the left and right wings. It was an odd placement for a tree, and thus she and Eren had decided to meet at it for lunch before they reunited with their respective friends. They normally walked to the cafeteria together to get their food, and it worked out well for both of them. 

Normally, Eren got there first. But not today; today, he wasn’t there. She waited a few minutes before moving confusedly towards the cafeteria alone. But he wasn’t there either, nor was he with Armin, Sasha, and Connie. 

She tried to relax. He could, after all, leave campus on his own--he was eighteen--but their year of difference felt like much more to Mikasa. Nevertheless, it wasn’t unusual for Eren to have a quiz to make up or something, and for him to forget to tell Mikasa. So, she tried to put it out of her mind. 

She took her place among Eren’s friends. It felt weird to her to call them her friends, although they admittedly were. To her, though, it didn’t feel like they knew her nearly as well as she knew them. 

“Hey!” invited Armin. She nodded in admission of his greeting. 

“Where’s Eren?” she asked in return. Armin smiled. 

“God Mikasa. No wonder Eren calls you mom. I thought he was with you, though?” Mikasa shrugged her shoulders, indicating that he wasn’t. “I’ve got somewhere to go, actually,” finished Armin, “gotta talk to my calc teacher. Something about a missed quiz.” 

As Armin left, Mikasa shifted her feet so she remained facing the others, and increased her grip on her violin case. 

She interrupted Sasha and Connie from their questionable embrace, and asked them the same question. They didn’t know, but then again, they weren’t exactly paying her much attention. 

She pushed it from her mind, and relaxed a bit next to Ymir, Christa, Reiner, and Marco, all of whom were in her grade. 

She elected to avoid getting entrapped in Ymir and Christa’s game of stealing glances at each other, though, and thus settled next to Marco. He was shy and quiet, so they got along well. 

Marco simply said, “Jean isn’t here today.” Mikasa nodded, and brilliantly added, “It’s raining.”

He flashed a rare smile at her--a sympathetic one. “I’m kinda nervous for my conservatory audition,” he added, “The concertmaster makes it sound scary.” 

“Yea. I know how you feel. I might get promoted to first violin, but competition’s tough.” 

“Dang. Violin’s even more competitive than flute. You’d be a good first though. You’re an efficient player.” 

“Thanks. I hope that’s a good thing.” Mikasa flopped her head against the wall. “I’m encouraging Eren to audition for advanced symphony. He’s good enough on the sax, but I don’t know about the piano. I really don’t know if he cares that much about school.”

“Don’t worry,” said Marco simply, “He’ll find his way.” And then he plugged in his earphones and closed his eyes, conversation clearly over. 

Needless to say, they got along well. 

Mikasa must have fallen asleep, because an odd sound jarred her awake. It wasn’t the bell, but moreover the absence of sound--the hallway seemed empty except for Ymir and Christa. They followed each other with their eyes as they walked towards the audition room. 

Mikasa scrambled to her feet, remembering her audition, and grabbed her bookbag and violin case as she ran down the hall. She watched Ymir and Christa file into the performance hall just a moment before her, and she slipped in behind them, hoping she wasn’t late. 

But sooner than the door closed behind them, they were gone. It didn’t make sense why, but the hall was empty. Ymir and Christa had evaporated. She turned back around into the hall. But it was empty too. She rushed to the next classroom, and peered in the window. But even before she looked, she knew. She knew as she heard that strange woman’s hum, and she knew when she saw lightning but heard no bell and no thunder. 

“Come back, Mikasa Ackerman.”


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie wonders why Mikasa squeezes shut her eyes.   
> And Annie wonders why Mikasa stifles all her sleep-run cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More backstory about how Annie meets Mikasa...

Annie washed her hands in the staff room, and turned towards Erwin--

She mentally corrected herself. She was to call him Dr. Smith at the hospital. 

“It’s been a long shift for everyone, Doctor. Is there any wing that needs me?” Erwin smiled at her concern: he had long worried that she only feigned caring towards her patients, but it was moments like these that reminded him that Annie actually was an excellent nurse. 

“There’s no one seeing to a patient called Mikasa Ackerman,” he answered, reading off his charts, “She’s the one your team picked up on your ambulance.” 

“Why not?” Annie responded sharply, “The patient was unconscious, and experiencing hallucinations--it’s hardly minor.”

“I know.” Dr. Smith grimaced, “but to be perfectly honest, we’ve got an influx of patients that needed immediate surgery. We got one with an amputated hand, another with possibly serious brain damage, and two others in induced comas. That’s why I want you to take a look at the patient now, anyway.”

Annie pursed her lips, but did not comment her disapproval. “Is she kept in the normal rooms?”

Dr. Smith shook his head, and said, “Actually, no. Her parents paid for a solitary suite in the North Wing.”

Annie nodded her admission, gathered her clipboard and bag, and stalked towards the North Wing. 

Although normally she would have had to flash her identification to security to enter the wing, the entire hospital was in chaos, and thus she walked unnoticed into the wing. The North Wing was normally reserved for patients who were easily triggered by others. The rooms were capacious, and there were more security measures than there were in the other wings. 

Annie relished, actually, the opportunity to walk unnoticed through a crowd. She was short, and small, and felt crowded, but nevertheless felt consumed by the rhythm of people around her. Frankly speaking, she liked to disappear into a moving, fluccuating mass. That was part of her New York upbringing, she supposed--a desire to melt into crowds. It made her feel safe. 

Thus it was Annie at her most serene, her most beautiful, and her most calm, who walked into the room that held nineteen-year-old Mikasa Ackerman, and it was Annie in this condition who nearly stopped short, her breath caught in her throat, with a series of emotions that she had never felt before. 

She peered at the sleeping form of the strange girl in front of her, and watched her eyes flick beneath dreaming eyelids. Although the patient’s body was still, calm, and unmoving, her closed eyes hinted that she was reliving hell within her mind. 

Annie noted a burn mark on the girl’s lip, and a heavy gash above her eye. Annie wondered how it was possible for the girl to have been standing when Annie had found her. Because frankly, it shouldn’t have been. 

Not by any means. 

Annie reached forward, placed her hand on the girl’s forehead, and muttered incomprehensibly. She backed away, marked something down on a piece of paper, and fetched a towel from an adjoining room. She also got ice, and water: despite all of humankinds propensity for invention, the best cure for fever still was a cold cloth on the patient’s forehead. 

Annie guessed that she would be here a while; the entire hospital was crazed, but exhausted. That meant that there was no one to take care of the forgotten patient with a fever, and that meant that Annie would stay here until there was someone else to watch the patient. 

She shrugged to herself. It felt odd to be alone, like it was too quiet. Normally she relished such a condition, but she felt uneasy now. Annie wondered why--it was not like her to act like this. Not by a long shot. 

She devoted her attention to the girl on the hospital bed. Mikasa Ackerman, her name was, she reminded herself. Mikasa Ackerman. Saying the name felt odd. 

“Annie Leonhart,” she said aloud. She could not have explained why she did so, but the frailty of her voice made her nervous. Did her voice always sound that pale? And was it always this dark in the North Wing?

Annie looked back at Mikasa’s face, which was illuminated palely by the lights from the city that came through the large window to the side of the room. Annie sighed, and flicked on the fluorescent lights of the room. It was much too dark to work in these conditions, but she hated the fluorescent lights. They triggered her headaches, and it had been a long day underneath them already. 

After a while of sitting by Mikasa’s bed, repeatedly swiping the cold cloth over Mikasa’s forehead and face, Annie reached an odd sort of peace. She started to hum--at first a tune from her favorite movie, which was Lord of the Rings (she was into the old, classic, stuff), but the tune merged into something else. She couldn’t remember the words, but she sang them anyway. It restored her calm.  
A few hours had passed, and the sun began to peak over the horizon. Annie had thought it wouldn’t. It didn’t make sense for the sun to be so bright after a day that had brought so much darkness. It didn’t make sense that after a day of rain, and blood, and fire, that the dawn could rise, serene as ever. 

But it did. And as it did, Mikasa’s eyes fluttered open, and she sat up quickly. Annie nearly jumped back in surprise. 

“Eren!” she cried, and she clenched her fists (rather, her fist, because her left hand was wrapped in a large bandage). But after the outburst, she went limp, and whimpered softly. Sweat spotted her forehead. 

She had collapsed back into her white pillow, now stained with sweat and dust. And Annie regularized her breathing, and convinced herself that she hadn’t been scared when Mikasa sat up so abruptly. 

She needed a change of pace, she decided. Or else she would go crazy, pass out from exhaustion, or both. She got up, stepped into the adjacent room, got a glass of water, and yawned widely. She turned on the tap, stuck her index finger into the flow of water, and tested the temperature. It was cold. 

Good, she thought. She washed her face, her hands, and her neck, even splashing a little water in her hair for good measure. 

Good. Time to wake up. 

She stepped back into the room with Mikasa, and surveyed her surroundings. She tried to convince herself that she had just woken up, and she really would feel fine and completely awake in just a few minutes. 

Annie walked back to Mikasa’s bed, and noted Mikasa’s eyes still flitting behind their limpid lids. She sighed, and reached forwards for Mikasa’s red scarf--it looked like it might be interfering with her breathing, but Annie wasn’t really sure. However, as soon as her fingers brushed the red fabric, Mikasa cried out, and flailed with her good hand. 

Tears poured down the girl’s face, and Annie was taken aback. “Please! I don’t know where to go!”

Eyes wide, Annie listened to what she assumed was Mikasa’s dream. 

“Don’t leave me Eren, please, please, I’ll do better!” Her face contorted in pain, Mikasa sobbed, and cried, and left Annie feeling confused. But she put aside her confusion, and stepped back towards the younger girl, and touched her hair--  
“Shhh,” she murmured, “Eren won’t leave you. Eren will be with you. Eren’s okay, you’re okay, I promise.” 

But she felt vaguely ill, because she had no idea who Eren was. But she comforted Mikasa anyway, and didn’t flinch too much when Mikasa grabbed her arm and squeezed, hard. 

“I can’t lose you too! You’re all I have left!” Annie’s heart did a flip. Who else had Mikasa lost? If Mikasa hadn’t been clutching her arm, Annie would have run to the front desk and looked up everything there was on Mikasa Ackerman’s file. 

But her heart softened her curiosity when she saw Mikasa’s face, still wet with fresh tears, teeth gritted in an attempt not to cry. 

“Who even tries not to cry in their sleep?” she whispered, “are you that used to hiding what you feel?”

But the sleeping Mikasa had no answer.


	4. Stage 4 Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night terrors occur most commonly in state four sleep.

Annie awoke, bleary eyed and with an enormous headache, on the ground. She could not explain why or how she had gotten there, with her head leaning stiffly against a chair, and her hair still in a mussed (albeit short) ponytail. 

She looked ahead of her, saw Mikasa on the bed in front of her, and remembered why she was there. 

She got up on her feet and ignored the blood that rushed to her head much too fast. Stars filled her vision and she steadied herself against the wall. Stupid low blood pressure--it had prevented her from donating blood even though she was O negative, the most useful and rare blood type. It made her angry that she had something to give, but no way to give it. No way to save a life that she so desperately pretended not to value. 

She shook her head, returning her vision and attention to the sleeping Mikasa. Annie was relieved that the girl’s temperature had declined through the night, and she was about to take Mikasa’s vitals again when a receptionist called the line inside the adjacent room. 

“The parents of patient 101, Mikasa Ackerman, are here to see her if her condition has stabilized.”

“Send them up; it has,” replied Annie, and with that, she hung up. She surveyed her surroundings; although Annie kept things neat, she straightened her belongings and pushed a pair of red high heeled shoes deeper into her bag. She had picked that up from the crime scene, mostly out of curiosity, but also because of her intuition. She would need them, she felt sure. 

Then, she turned to Mikasa, ensured her bandage didn’t look too gruesome, and smoothed out the mussed sheets. 

Mikasa’s eyes still had not opened, but it was not that she was unconscious in medical terms. In all truth, she was just sleeping. 

Doing one last check of the room, she switched off the radio she had unconsciously been humming along with. 80s songs were here childhood. She nearly laughed: almost everything about Annie Leonhardt was out of place in this generation. (More specifically, any generation.)

She stepped closer to Mikasa. 

“Come back, Mikasa Ackerman.” 

There was no response. She didn’t know what she had expected. 

There was a knock at the door, and Annie remembered her duties. She made up for her tired and disheveled appearance by becoming more receptive than usual. 

“Please, come in.” She welcomed a beautiful woman into the room. She could not have been more than forty--and she had a petite figure, long, brown hair, and oceanic green eyes. 

She bore absolutely no resemblance to Mikasa, nor did the man who gravely followed her. The man was tall, and thin, and severe--with dull brown eyes and a strong brow. 

“Mr. and Mrs.--?” Annie politely asked for their names; especially given the difference of appearance between Mikasa and her parents, she did not want to assume that they shared a surname. The receptionist had said that the couple was Mikasa’s parents, but given that, it would have been rude to assume. 

“Jaeger,” said the man, stepping forward. “I’m Grisha Jaeger, and my wife, Carla.” 

Mrs. Jaeger interrupted his abrupt but strangely warm voice with her melodic and charming one. It was tinged with sadness. 

“How is she?”

Annie turned to face Mikasa. 

“She seems alright. Her vitals are normal. She’s not in a coma, but she’s in a lot of shock still. Technically speaking, she’s just sleeping. If she doesn’t wake up within the next couple days, then we’ll reconsider the situation. But as it is, she will be fine, except for perhaps disorientation when she wakes up. She may or may not remember the explosion.”

Mr. Jaeger nodded deferentially. Mrs. Jaeger went to Mikasa’s side, and fell to her knees by the bed. She sobbed quietly, and Annie felt that she should leave. She couldn’t, though--it was hospital policy given the complicated situation. 

“I couldn’t keep you safe. I failed both of you,” Mrs. Jaeger murmured to her daughter. 

On queue, Mr. Jaeger shuddered and knit his eyebrows closer together. He came from behind his wife, and placed his large hands on her shoulders. She turned back towards him, and Annie saw clearly two things in her eyes. 

Guilt, and fear. Yep, now she was sure: Annie specifically would rather be any other place than here. Even--

She dissuaded herself from completing that thought; that was a tunnel of memories that she did not wish to consider. Anyway, while she was there, she chose to give the family a few feet of space. She stepped towards the window to watch the feeble sunrise--that, and the reflection on the glass that told Annie what she was curious about. 

And it was as such that Annie learned more about Mikasa than she could have hoped with Mikasa just sleeping. 

Mrs. Jaeger cried, and begged the white walls of the hospital bedroom to answer the one enduring, infinitely unanswerable question that every hospital patient and visitor is faced with. 

Why? 

Why is my son gone? Why is my daughter so helplessly, terrifyingly sleeping? Why couldn’t it be me? Why couldn’t I protect them? What will I do when she wakes up, and I see her eyes empty of feeling, when I see her eyes blame me for not being able to protect her and Eren? 

And Annie saw in Mrs. Jaeger’s eyes that she feared Mikasa’s judgement. Annie sighed noiselessly. Mikasa would need her mother when she finally awoke, but something in Annie’s heart told her that this mother could only face a sleeping daughter. 

A living, breathing, moving, thinking, daughter, is quite another thing entirely. 

“What a pity,” thought Annie, “because I shouldn’t be the only one certain that Mikasa is even more beautiful when she is awake. I haven’t even seen her awake.”

The Jaegers came and went. The early morning came and went, too, and Erwin had not yet called her to relieve her of her shift, nor to ask her to stay on. 

She shrugged. He had forgotten, she supposed, or perhaps he had come during the night or early morning, and still had let her sleep. 

It was time, though, to actually put herself to use, instead of standing by the window, or walking to and away from Mikasa. The emergency team had no doubt examined her for other injury, and until Mikasa woke up, Annie didn’t want to invade her privacy. 

Normally, perhaps, that wouldn’t have caused her to hesitate, but this was different. Mikasa was different. Mikasa wasn’t quite tangible, she couldn’t be touched; she floated on a cloud that was her bed. And thus, Annie was different. Less certain. More desirous. 

But then again, it could just be her exhaustion taking its toll on her. That happened occasionally, just not very often. 

She backed away, turned on the 80s radio, and reapproached the bed. She gently lifted Mikasa’s head--it was oddly light--and unwrapped her red scarf from around Mikasa’s fragile, bruised, and all-too-pale neck. 

Both Mikasa and Annie breathed out a little more heavily as the latter released Mikasa’s head back onto her pillow. Annie let her eyes linger on the girl. She was relieved to find that Mikasa’s eyes not longer flitted quite so anxiously underneath their lids. 

Annie felt Mikasa’s forehead again, which seemed now to be at a normal temperature. That was good, because fevers lasting over twenty-four hours can cause complications. The simpler, the better. 

Furthermore, her heartbeat had regularized. It seemed to Annie that Mikasa would wake up ver soon, and Annie would prefer to be there when that happened. 

As it was, though, she gave herself small tasks to complete. When Mikasa woke up, she would want to be relatively clean, she would want answers, and she would want Eren--whoever Eren was. 

She had written a list of tasks, actually. Annie loved doing that: it made her feel powerful, as if she could break down her problems into steps, and complete whatever she needed to do as effectively as possible. 

Task 1: Wash the scarf. She looked at her neat and small handwriting on the page, and looked at the red scarf--badly damaged by grime and fire--that was in her other hand. 

She stepped into the adjacent room, intent on washing said scarf that seemingly meant so much to Mikasa--she had been clutching at it desperately when Annie had rescued her, after all. 

She ran the tap at low pressure and immersed the far end of the scarf under the stream. The scarf seemed to turn more and more red--or perhaps it was just the water that was becoming more and more brown. Somehow, watching streaks of color appear on the damaged scarf was calming--like walking down Broadway during rush hour. 

She added a bit of soap, and slowly lathered it into the scarf. It became more and more clean, and she smiled softly. 

When it was clean, she rinsed it thoroughly, and gently squeezed the water out of it. Then, she draped it over the air conditioning unit, which was turned on to low, so it could dry. 

Time for task 2.


	5. The Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Annie is your angel, Mikasa Ackerman, then who exactly is your enemy?

One moment she was there, the next moment, she wasn’t. It was as simple as that. 

She opened her eyes, and wondered how she had ever forgotten about the ringing in her ears and the throbbing of her head. 

The light was much too bright, and so she slammed her eyelids shut again, and let out a groan of discomfort that she didn’t realize she had made. 

A dull rining seemed to drown out all sound. She wished she was back in her dream just so she could hear the strangely calming voice of the woman. Vaguely she wondered how it was even possible for her to have heard it through her dreams. 

She tried to speak, but her voice felt hoarse, as if from overuse. She opened her eyes more slowly, and was met with success, albeit with more pain resonating from her brow. 

She clenched her fist to compensate, and propped herself up in an attempt to make out her surroundings. 

A bed. A very white bed. But her bed at the apartment was red. 

Of course. A hospital. Eren. Where was Eren? She tried to regularize her breathing and in so doing realized she was not alone in the room. A woman stepped gently from behind a cabinet and looked at her. 

“You’re awake.” She walked towards her and Mikasa simply stared. The woman looked back at her, and all Mikasa could think to say was: 

“You’re not wearing high heeled shoes.” 

The woman looked confused, but nodded. 

“Where’s my scarf?” Mikasa asked simply. The woman gestured to table beside her bed. It was badly burned and hardly recognizable. 

“You kept mumbling about it in your sleep. That’s why I asked the responders to get it. It was found few feet away from you.” 

Mikasa nodded in admission, and then regretted it as she was greeted with a stab of pain. She asked, “Was there anyone else?” Her eyes were unreadable, and the only sign that she was afraid was the tightness of the muscles along her jaw. 

“I won’t lie to you,” said the woman. “Not everyone in the conservatory survived. But I don’t know how many there are dead, and how many are living. This was not the only hospital that the survivors were taken to.” 

“Thank you,” said Mikasa. She did not ask what happened. She wanted to know, but only if it meant that Eren was okay. 

The woman looked at her in silence. There was respect in her eyes, but a degree of reservation that confused Mikasa. 

“My name is Annie,” she said. And she left the room to tell the doctors that their patient had awakened. 

The doctors came in just moments later, and Mikasa endured their questions and their tests. Her parents were waiting outside, they had said, and they would be let in shortly. They had come earlier, too, when she was sleeping, but then had left in the interim. 

IIt was when they came in the room that she knew that Eren was not okay. She knew because a mother’s eyes glow, and Eren’s mother’s eyes no longer glowed. She shook, and her fingers seemed small. And so when they entered the doorway, Mikasa took one look at them before she dragged herself to her knees on top of the bed, leaned over the side, and threw up. 

“It was to be expected,” said the doctors. “She’s in a great deal of shock. I recommend not telling her about her…,” he hesitated as he glanced at his records, “her...step brother’s condition, until she is feeling better.”

Annie listened to the doctor talk to Mikasa’s parents, and then she went back into the break room. She collected the strips of newspaper that centered on the past three days--the events during, after and related to the bombing of the advanced wing of the conservatory, and the abduction of thirteen junior students at New York State Conservatory for the Musically Gifted. She gathered them up, and without a sound, walked back to Mikasa’s ward. Her parents were with Mikasa now, so Annie busied herself with papers, and she put the clippings aside. 

She smiled softly as she could feel Mikasa’s eyes on her. 

Mikasa’s parents did not stay long. Mikasa had known that they wouldn’t. Not with Eren in trouble--Mikasa could guess that Eren was dead, dying, or missing; but she waited to be alone before she said a thing. 

And so as Mikasa’s parents left the room, the doctor beckoned to Annie and asked her to monitor Mikasa. Annie nodded professionally, and reentered the room. 

“Mikasa.” Mikasa looked at her. “I think it’s alright for me to call you Mikasa. You’re four years younger than me, so I don’t have to be that polite.” 

Mikasa watched her silently. Then she spoke deliberately. “Annie, do you have an Eren Jaeger on file?”

Eren Jaeger. Annie thought for a moment, and then replied: “No. Eren was not admitted to this hospital.” She looked through the newspaper clippings for any sign--until she reached a headline that told her why the name Eren Jaeger was so familiar.

Annie simply handed Mikasa the clipping, that read: “18-Year-old Son of Law Firm Giant Among Abducted.” 

Annie did not know what to expect, but it did not cross her mind that Mikasa would smile. 

“He’s alive, Annie. If he’s missing, he’s alive.”

“You assumed he was dead?”

“The look on his mother’s face. It told me he was dead.” Annie did not respond for a while, except for a nod. But then a question crossed her face--but before she cared to ask it, Mikasa answered. 

“My family is dead. Eren adopted me, and his parents complied. I was their charity case. I am grateful for what they have done for me.” 

“They’re very rich,” Annie noted. 

Mikasa conceded with a curt nod. “Thank you for these,” she added, gesturing to the newspaper. “I believe the doctors would disapprove, though,” she mentioned as an afterthought. 

Annie smiled cryptically. “They very explicitly did. But they made a mistake the moment they assigned you to me.” To that, Mikasa had no answer.


	6. Bow Strung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mikasa realizes just how much she's lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this! I'm going to write more of it to see where this will end up, and I really appreciate any feedback.  
> <3

Somehow, Mikasa knew that she would stay in the hospital for a while. There were a few reasons for her theory, but she knew there was something not quite right about her. She would get fevers at night, and chills during the day--and sometimes phase in and out of delirium. On the plus side, the doctors said it was a combination of shock and anxiety, and would go away with time. 

She feared for Eren. Half of her knew that her illness was caused by his absence, but she convinced herself that Eren would escape, or find his way somehow. But it had been a week, and the terrorist cell that claimed responsibility had yet to contact the authorities or the families. 

She wished that Annie hadn't washed the scarf. She wanted it to smell like Eren. She wanted some proof that Eren still existed. 

Mikasa was grateful, though, for Annie's presence. Eren's parents had financed a private bed for Mikasa, and thus she was regularly alone. Annie made her feel her alienation less acutely; she would regularly talk to her, and, when she thought Mikasa was in a total state of delirium, sing to her. 

Annie was a bad singer. Mikasa was glad. Had Annie been a better singer, Mikasa would have wanted to play her violin. 

And desire leads to suffering, thought Mikasa. She had best forget about her music, because with the size of the cast on her left hand, it seemed she would not play the violin for a very, very long time. 

No Eren, and no violin. With no Eren, there was no Eren's parents. She reminded them too much of Eren, she mused, and so they didn't visit often. 

No Eren, and no violin. With no violin, no education and no scholarship to the conservatory. The same conservatory that just burned to the ground. Right. 

Annie brought her lunch to Mikasa's room. Sometimes she brought Mikasa lunch, too. It surprised her to find that Annie, despite the futility of her singing career, had many talents. She had dabbled in cooking before studying nursing in college. Needless to say, Annie was a good cook. 

But despite the comfort of her presence--indeed, after Eren, Annie was perhaps her first friend--Mikasa was restless. 

It was a Thursday afternoon when Mikasa spoke to Annie about her idea. They actually hadn't spoken in a while; they preferred companionable silences. 

"Annie, I'm going to leave the hospital."

"Good," replied Annie. "So am I."

Mikasa nodded absently before she remembered that Annie wasn't a fellow patient--she worked there. 

"Wait--why are you leaving?"

Annie stood up from her chair and looked down at Mikasa's bed. "You see, someone very dear to me needs to find someone. And I'm going to help her."

Mikasa looked evenly into Annie's eyes. She was struck by their luminosity,and she became distracted. 

Annie smirked. "It's been two weeks. I'll get Dr. Smith to sign you out now that the fever's gone away. Also, get whatever you need from your apartment--I'll drive you, and then we'll get started."

Mikasa stared at Annie again. "Me? You've known me for two weeks!"

"And you knew Eren for a day before you followed him home," Annie challenged. 

"I was nine!"

"And you haven't changed."

Annie knew she had won. So she left to retrieve Dr. Smith. 

As she left, Mikasa muttered, "How do you even know I followed Eren home?"


	7. Arrow Poised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mikasa realizes just how much she's lost.

Annie left Mikasa feeling alone and unsure. She looked at the few belongings she had there, and thought of what she would need. (Need for what?) She knew, though, that she could not return to live in the apartment she and Eren had shared. 

She sighed, and made herself forget her headache. It was high time she got off her bed and got to work. Two and a half weeks of languishing and watching the newsman talk about how there were no further leads on the case--was two and a half weeks wasted, feeling unsure and worried about where Eren was. 

A lot of people were angry that the government let this happen, but Mikasa wasn’t. She was angry that Eren was involved--missing at the very least, hurt or dead, more possibly. Her opinion on the matter did not transcend that anger and fear. She finished packing the rest of her belongings into a half-empty bag--her bookbag, actually, that no longer had books inside of it, and now was adorned with scrapes and burns. Kind of like her. 

She stood up, and moved in front of the mirror. The stitches in her brow stood out against her pale skin, and it seemed her thin eyebrows were patchy and misshapen. She cringed, too, when she saw an angry burn mark on her lip. It was a scar--already healed, and thus would probably stay. 

This was why she had taped the newspaper over the mirror, her eyes closed at the time. Mikasa wished she didn’t have to look. But the other part of her knew now that it didn’t really matter how much she hurt, or how many scars dotted her once pretty face. 

Because it was worse for Eren, she told herself. And Eren needed her to find him. 

Annie walked back into Mikasa’s room just when she was thinking of leaving, alone, before Annie could see her like this. It was just as well that she didn’t leave, though, she remembered, because Annie had seen her like this all along. 

When Mikasa’s eyes fixed on Annie’s face, she recognized her face was clear and bored, almost cruel. At first Mikasa didn’t know why, and she flinched almost despite herself--away from the stony, ice blue eyes that nearly burned with intensity. She realized, though, that Annie’s disconcern was not directed at her. It was directed at the blond doctor who had followed Annie into the room, asking: 

“What are you thinking?” He was stern, and obviously angry--more than a doctor had a right to be towards his subordinate. He continued his tangent, nearly yelling, “You have no idea what you’re doing!” He seemed oblivious to Annie’s lack of response. Either that, or he was used to it. 

Annie barely turned her head to acknowledge his presence. She just walked towards the cabinet that held Mikasa’s files, and pulled them out. 

“I’ll finalize this then leave.”

“But Annie. Think how disappointed your father would be! He wanted this for you.”

He went a bit pale, though, when that evoked a reaction. She turned around: “Erwin.” There was no thought that followed his name, but saying his name was enough. He became defensive. 

“While we’re at the hospital, it’s Doctor Smith, Annie. I’ve told you--”

“Then you call me Miss Leonhart. It’s as simple as that, Erwin, and I don’t work here anymore.”

Mikasa simply watched. “Annie! You’re ruining your life.” At that, she smiled a small smile. She liked to think that Annie noticed, out of the corner of her eye. 

Annie replied quietly--dangerously quietly: “No, Uncle. I’m learning how to live it. Please leave.”

And he did. 

Mikasa, not knowing why she did, stepped towards Annie, almost protectively. She had already hoisted her bookbag on her shoulder and wrapped her scarf around her neck, so it was almost an afterthought that she awkwardly grabbed Annie’s hand. 

Had Mikasa dared to look into Annie’s eyes to gauge her reaction, she would have seen a sad smile. But Mikasa did not dare, she simply felt Annie’s hand tighten against her own, and readjust the papers in her other hand. 

When they stepped into the hallway, they awkwardly released each others hand. Mikasa hid her discomfort by putting in her scarf. She felt that maybe if she buried her nose deep enough, it would take away her fear, the scar above her lip, and maybe how lost she felt without Eren. 

She slowed her pace to fall in behind Annie, who swiveled to give her a small smile. 

"You need to sign something at the front desk and then we can go."

So, Mikasa followed Annie down the stairs. Neither liked the elevator. 

"Why don't you?" Asked Mikasa. 

"I get claustrophobic," replied Annie, "what about for you?"

Mikasa hesitated, and jumped down an extra step before she explained. "I don't like how it's attached to jus a cable. It's something like a cage. I don't like those." She didn't explain why she understood this, though. She hadn't even told Eren about her past. 

Annie nodded, and added, "Lets talk in the car."

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and opened the door into the waiting room. Mikasa struggled not to gag. The room smelled of sickness. 

Annie led her past a line of coughing children and tired mothers, up to one of her colleagues. 

"Annie, hi. How can I help?"

"I’m going to need the release papers for Mikasa Ackerman.” Within a moment, the man found the file, produced it to Annie, and gave her a pen for the signature. 

Annie put her signature on the paper, and then handed it to Mikasa to do the same. “Thank you, Hannes. I wish you the best of luck with this damn hospital.”

“Are you leaving?”

Annie did not reply, and instead pocketed a mall bottle of hand sanitizer, and led Mikasa out to Annie’s car. 

It was cheap and old--a Toyota Camry from the 2012 class. It once would have been silver, but now it just looked grey, with a scratch that ran the length of the car. What Mikasa liked about it, though, was that it was clean. Almost definately recently washed. 

As Annie approached the car, it beeped to unlock. “Does this even have the thumbprint unlock?” asked Mikasa. 

“No,” replied Annie, “it’s a little old. But I like it like that.” Mikasa opened the passenger door, placed her bookbag on her lap, and waited. She thought it odd that she had not noticed that this was the first time she set foot outside since the accident. And she had not noticed the puddles on the ground, nor the sun that peeked dimly from behind a cloud. It had recently rained. 

Funny, how she used to like the rain. 

Annie got in the driver’s seat. Mikasa looked at her directly, and pushed her scarf away from covering her face, momentarily forgetting about her scar. 

“Annie--” 

“I know. I know. You don’t even know me. But you cried out in your dreams. I grew to know you. So, I know this is weird, but I know how beautiful you are. And so I want to do this.”

“I--I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say thank you. But now I don’t know what to say.”

“I know,” said Annie. “But I thought about what you would want to know. Give me your address. I’ll drive, you read--” she pointed to several sheets of folded notebook paper--”and if you still have any questions, then you can ask.”

Mikasa struggled to remember her address, but finally managed and told Annie. 

“That’s pretty far from the conservatory,” commented Annie. 

“Now read.” And so Mikasa unfolded the letter as Annie backed out of the parking spot. 

“Mikasa. Mika--  
I know you are the type of person who wants to know things without asking. And so here are a few things that I think you need to know. 

The day of the accident, the hospital received a call for as many ambulance personnel as possible. I’d never attended an ambulance before, but I had a relatively free shift, so I got to an ambulance pretty quick. Nobody told us what was going on, we just knew that we needed to be at the New York Conservatory for the Musically Gifted--I don’t even know what I assumed. This hospital was the closest to the conservatory, you know, so we were there almost first. It was really chaotic, and the explosion center was in the auditorium--but it’s odd. Something we learned later is that the explosion was explicitly timed so as to not hurt anyone--just make a bunch of rubble. Apparently, most days, there would have been maybe one person in the main auditorium--but it turns out, the day they planned was something called an examination day. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but you probably do. That’s why you and a lot of the advanced class were actually hit--you weren’t a target, but the building you were in was. 

Anyway, as the first explosion went off in the auditorium, we had no idea if there would be any others. Law enforcement was warned to proceed with caution, and thus the terrorists escaped with twenty-three of the junior students. Among them was your brother. My particular theory is that something went wrong. It doesn’t make sense why they would kidnap 23 teenagers--its not effective unless they ask for a ransom or a concession. And they haven’t done that yet--so we’re told. (I have a few theories about this, too). The kidnapping part of this case doesn’t make sense. So we need to find holes in the story before we find Eren. 

Anyway, the ambulance personnel were told not to go in until the police cleared the scene, but we could hear crying. We’re medical staff; we can’t stand that shit. We couldn’t help ourselves, we just kept thinking that we had to get these kids out, because there could be another explosion. We really knew nothing, but were fortunate that there was no other explosion. 

So. We ran in, looking for any sign of life. My colleagues found a boy called Marco--they said he asked for someone called Jean, and a girl called Mikasa. That’s why I remember him. He was okay, in the end, but he lost his right arm.”

Mikasa looked up quickly, before a tear dripped on the page. She looked at Annie, who glanced at her back. 

“Why couldn’t he have lost his leg instead, Annie? Marco, that is.”

Annie looked at her in surprise. “But he can walk. And he’s left-handed. I know it sucks, but it could be worse, and he has mobility.”

“We were gonna be musicians, Annie. But Marco can’t without his hand.”

Annie nodded. “What did he play?”

“The flute. 

“And you, Mikasa. What did you play?”

She swept her hair in front of her eyes, ashamed that it was taking this to make her cry. “I was violin. I was going to be first violin. And I had a scholarship to transfer to Columbia.”

Annie pulled into a parking lot and stopped. 

Still hiding behind her hair, Mikasa pointed out, “This isn’t my apartment.”

“I know,” replied Annie. “Now give me your hand.” Mikasa gave her a questioning glance before splaying out her right hand.

“Your left hand, Mika.” Annie’s request was now a demand. 

Mikasa sighed and held out her left hand. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Annie pulled a sharpie frm her jacket. 

“Now close your eyes.” Mikasa obeyed, and she could feel the odd pressure of Annie writing something on her cast; she could hear the squeak of the marker, and smell the chemical scent. 

“Now open.”

Annie had drawn two neat, symmetrical, and beautifully shaped f holes on her cast. They reminded her tragically of the failure of her musical career, until she read the words underneath: 

“Mika, you are more beautiful than the music you play. Don’t give up.”

Mikasa felt like crying, but she didn’t. She was touched by Annie’s gesture, but before she could say anything, Annie had already put the car back in gear and steered expertly out of the parking lot. 

As Annie merged with oncoming traffic, Mikasa said, “Outside of Eren, you are perhaps my only friend.” 

Annie didn’t reply, but Mikasa knew she knew. Bothe became reabsorbed-Mikasa with Annie’s letter, and Annie with her own thoughts. 

It continued--  
“Unlike Marco’s, I believe your arm will heal. I believe it will, and I am not one to lie. Also, I will tell you everything I have collected, information-wise, about the case, at my apartment. For now, suffice it to say that I have a method derived to find your brother. But I’m not sure I’m smart enough to connect the dots. 

Speaking of your brother: You spoke of him as often as you slept. He sounds very dear to you, and thus we have a responsibility to find him. You dreamed that he told you to follow him, and I gathered that you did many years ago. 

I apologize that this letter rambles but I never was much for linear thought. Linear action is one thing, but I don’t believe that linear thought exists. 

Thus I return back to the attack. I was not the first one to find you. I believe the first was a woman, though I do not know for sure. She had women's shoes. I saw someone stand over you, and then run once she saw me. She was wearing just socks when she ran, and she left her two high-heeled shoes behind. 

They are at my apartment. I don’t know if you remember her or not, but I believe that you did at one point, because when you woke up, your first question was as to why I wasn’t wearing high-heels. 

I believe if we find out the identity of this woman, we can find Eren. I have more information at the apartment. We may have to travel, so perhaps warn your parents if you believe that they merit your warning. Also pack what you need, and bring money. I have some, but only a limited supply. I’m assuming you don’t want to stay at your apartment. Please correct me if I am mistaken. And I believe we will have a long way to drive. That will mean time to learn of each other and what we need to do. 

\--A”

The A was terse, small, and neat, like the rest of Annie’s handwriting. and her personality, actually. Mikasa liked that letter A. ANd she liked Annie’s voice, and Annie's silence, and how she sometimes called her Mika. 

Mikasa finished the letter, aligned the creases, and put it in her jacket pocket. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m done being injured. I hope you know that.” 

Annie nodded as they pulled into the parking complex of Mikasa’s apartment. 

“I’m really annoyed I lost my car, actually,” said Mikasa. “I mean, I bought it myself, with the money from my summer job. It was really pretty, too.”

Annie cracked a smile, and as they got out of the car, said, “Unlike mine.” She laughed a little, and Mikasa smiled too, despite her discomfort at the scar on her lip. 

“Would you prefer to go in to your apartment alone, though?” 

“No,” said Mikasa, “I don’t want to go alone. Plus, I should call Eren’s parents and I don’t want to keep you waiting in your beautiful car.”

They walked past the elevator and pushed the stairwell door open together. “Four floors,” said Mikasa, “every goddamn day.”

“Could be worse,” mused Annie, looking at the stairwell directory that counted to nineteen. 

“Could be worse,” agreed Mikasa.


	8. Papercuts and Stairwells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie turns a little sinister...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate comments and kudos of anyone who reads! Thanks alot I've gotten way more hits than I expected but honestly I'm really greedy T_T  
> Thanks so much!  
> Alexis

Mikasa flipped open the door’s combination lock, and relied on her muscle memory to give her the password. She could not otherwise remember it, although she vaguely recalled that it had been she who had chosen it. The door clicked open. 

Annie waited for Mikasa to go in first, almost as if it were a right of Mikasa’s alone. 

“Damn,” thought Mikasa aloud, oblivious to Annie’s gesture, “I lost my cellphone in that…” she trailed off after “that,” “I was lucky I forgot my wallet that day, though.” She tried to forget about the other things she’d lost too. 

She had seen her wallet sitting on the counter, just then, forgotten next to her red umbrella. She looked towards Annie. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“Uhh, sure,” said Annie, “You’re gonna call your parents?” Mikasa nodded in assent as Annie reached for her back pocket. 

“Thanks,” replied Mikasa, flipping open the phone’s thin protective layer. Mikasa was lucky, too, that she made a point of memorizing all her phone numbers despite the ease with which her phone could for her. She prided herself on being prepared, though, and her vast memory banks included phone numbers, birthdays, emails, and addresses of all her closest contacts. 

She typed the number into the phone, and pressed call. 

The other line rang four times--Mikasa counted them distinctly--before picking up. 

“Hello?” It was Eren’s mother, of course. Her voice was worried, timid, tired. 

“Hi. It’s Mikasa.”

“Oh.” She heard Eren’s mother breath a sigh--was it relief or disappointment? 

“Are you okay?” she asked awkwardly. 

“Mom--I’m fine,” Mikasa said. 

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, “I’ve been afraid these past two weeks, to answer calls from unknown numbers. I thought it might be Eren. Or someone--you know…”

“Mom--It’s okay. Eren will be okay.” Mikasa didn’t call her that, normally. In her head, she always thought of her as “Eren’s Mom.” It wasn’t like that was a bad thing, to her, it was just a fact. She called her “Mom,” now, though, because she really needed her to know what she was doing. 

She continued. “Mom, if you blame me for what happened to Eren, I’m really, really sorry I couldn’t protect him. I’m going to--”

She stopped and drew in a deep breath. Annie shuffled her feet, torn between action and feeling like she shouldn’t be there. 

“Mikasa, my beautiful daughter Mikasa,” the muffled voice on the other line continued, “How could you think I would blame you?” Mikasa could tell that Eren--no, her mother, was crying. 

“You didn’t visit, I thought--” Mikasa herself struggled to hold back tears, “Well, I know Eren is more important right now, but I thought--”

“No, Mika, I thought you would be angry, and the doctor said you needed time to heal, we thought that you would blame us because we pushed you to go to the Conservatory in the first place, and…” She trailed off. 

Mikasa was left speechless, but she stumbled over her thoughts and tried to speak anyway. “Mom, no. It was me, it was me who wanted to go there, but that’s not important. Have you heard from.. heard from, uhm, anyone? I hope you know that--” 

She sharply drew in breath. She couldn’t say it, she couldn’t say, “because I thought you didn’t love me, I thought you loved Eren, and despite myself, I love you; I was afraid, I thought I disappointed you, and I thought that you only cared for me because Eren made you, I’m sorry for thinking that, but, I love you…”

But she couldn’t say it. She pulled the phone slowly down away from her ear, and her finger lingered over the hang up button. Her mother waited on the other line. She angrily pursed her lips at herself when a tear glimmered in her eye. 

Annie, who had been waiting patiently albeit awkwardly, her hands in her pockets, then stepped forward, smiled into Mikasa’s eyes, and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “It’ll be okay.” And without further warning, she snatched the phone from Mikasa’s hand, and retreated. 

“Hello,” she said, “this is Mikasa’s nurse. Well, moreover, Mikasa’s friend. This is my phone, and you can call whenever you’d like to talk with her. With all luck, Mikasa won’t hate me after I say this--” she danced out of the way was Mikasa’s eyes widened and she tried to steal the phone back, “but we’re short on time. Mikasa may not be able to say it, but she loves you. It shows in her eyes, and she has beautiful eyes. She loves you a lot, and she thinks you only tolerate her because Eren loves her. Either way, she loves Eren. And that means I love Eren. So, we left the hospital, and we’re going to find Eren, and we’re going to get Eren back. Now, I have to go, and I’m assuming so does Mikasa. She’ll call back later, or you can.”  
Before Mikasa’s mother had a chance to reply, Annie hung up. 

“Annie!” cried Mikasa. She had frozen when Annie told Mikasa’s mother the truth, but she stepped back into action after Annie hung up. 

Annie shrugged her shoulders. “We’re on a schedule. We need to be at my place by noon, and it’s already ten.”

Mikasa relented. “What you said was true. But I needed to be the one to say it.” 

“I understand,” said Annie. “Call her back later. I promise not to steal it.” Mikasa nodded her a thank you. 

Needless to say, Mikasa got on better with Annie than she had with even Marco. And maybe--

No. They needed to find Eren. That was it. 

The apartment was small, but neat, Annie noted. Except for the very obvious footprint of a teenage boy. Mikasa went to Eren’s room, first, and emerged with an already stuffed backpack. 

“Eren’s survival kit,” she explained, “he was bored one weekend when he was about twelve, so I suggested it.” She handed the backpack to Annie, and Annie smiled, because frankly, it was endearing that Mikasa just assumed Annie would hold it. And she would, after all. So Annie was left waiting for her in the living room, sporting a slightly awkward smile. 

Mikasa went back to Eren’s room, grabbed him a change of clothes, and an extra of his shirts, and then moved to her own room. She changed out of the hospital clothes she had been wearing, and into her new clothing: black jeans and Eren’s pale blue, button up shirt. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, and topped it off with her black leather jacket. She noted how difficult it was to change without her left hand. 

Annie must have left the living room, because Mikasa heard her press a few random notes on the keyboard that was up against the wall, perpendicular to the small kitchenette. She finished buttoning the shirt, grabbed extra clothes, money, and a bundle of other toiletries and materials she could think of. She organized it into her black duffel bag. She had considered just throwing it in, but honestly, she was appalled at the thought of unorganized luggage, so she took an extra moment to put it all together. 

When she returned, Annie was standing almost guiltily in the small kitchenette. 

“Are you looking for something?” asked Mikasa innocently, “I can help.”

“No,” replied Annie a little too quickly, “I found what I needed.”

In her hand was a paper bag that Annie must have pulled out of the cupboard. Mikasa was not sure she wanted to know what was in it, but she felt a little wary. 

“Oh!” I should take my laptop, too,” commented Mikasa distractedly. Annie absent-mindedly nodded her head, and picked up Mikasa’s duffle bag--no small feat, considering its weight, Eren’s survival kit, and her small paper bag. She started to leave, while Mikasa followed with her laptop and charger, as well as her wallet and red umbrella. 

“What’s the hurry, though?” Mikasa was confused as to why Annie insisted upon such a strict schedule. And how had Annie predicted that she would leave today, anyway? 

“It’s a half-hour drive to my apartment, it’s already eleven, and we have a twelve o’clock obligation. 

Mikasa did not ask what that obligation was, she simply followed Annie out the front door, and locked it behind her. 

But she stopped just outside the door. “What did you take from the kitchen, Annie?”

Annie hesitated, and opened the paper bag. In it were three innocuous food cans, a can opener, and something wrapped in cloth. “I also took on of your knives. It’s better shaped than any I have.”

Mikasa unconsciously took a step back. “Oh. Let’s go back to the car.”

“Sorry,” said Annie, “I should have asked.” Mikasa nodded. 

“Let’s hope we don’t need that knife,” she added. 

Annie shook her head, and shared, “Let’s get accurate. From what I know about these people, we’ll need more than one of your knives. I just took it to add to my collection. It could be useful in a pinch.”

“You have a collection?”

Annie didn’t reply. They started down the stairs. By the time Mikasa reached the bottom, though, trailing slightly behind Annie, a pit of dread had descended into her stomach. Something felt wrong, but Annie was her best shot of finding Eren. 

But she felt sick--with worry, fear, and foreboding. Not just for Eren, either. She promptly knelt away from her belongings, and was sick right there in the stairwell.  
Her throat burned. Annie abruptly turned towards her and moved as if to help, but Mikasa put up a hand to signify she was alright. She got back up, and explained, “that happens to me a lot. I have a weak stomach. Just some nerves. Do you have water, though?” She wiped her mouth in disgust. 

Annie nodded. “I think I have a pack in the car. And I have a towel if you want to clean yourself up.” She watched Mikasa closely out of the corner of her eye, ready to jump to her aid if need be. But Mikasa was okay, it seemed. Not better than okay, but her eyes betrayed no weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's gonna be about Eren, Armin, and someone special that we haven't met yet ;)   
> Stay tuned guys! Thanks so much!


	9. Brat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, I know this chapter really sucks but I had to introduce the plight of Eren & Armin. And yea you get to meet your favorite character! Take a guess...  
> Sorry guys. I hope next chapter turns out better.

Eren groaned as he woke up, his back sore and his shoulders cramped. Just as they had been for the past two weeks. He felt old and tired, but in his state of momentary drowsiness, he was confused. 

“Mikasa?”

No. No one else was there. He adjusted his hands--which were tied behind him, and shuffled so he could lean up against a creaky wooden wall. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, but couldn’t see anything except for the form next to him. 

“Eren?” It looked like Armin, too, had woken up. His blond hair was streaked with soot, and his pale eyes seemed too large for his wan face. 

“Hey,” Eren started. “You woke up.” Armin nodded. Eren could barely see him in the dark. 

“Do you think anyone else is here?” Armin was worried that someone would overhear what he planned to say next. 

“No--I mean, I don’t know,” said Eren. His voice was hoarse and whispery. 

Armin whispered too, but his voice was sandpaper against gravel. “Listen. This is important. 70% of all kidnapped people are killed within the first week. My guess is that it’s been a week and a half, at the least. We have a pretty good chance of living--especially since they’ve been careful not to show their faces.” 

“That means they want something. But what--?”

Armin nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I think something went wrong. At first they took about 25 of us--but then they split us up. I think they might have had arrangements to get us out of New York, but something happened. We didn’t travel that long, and they split us into pairs. We’re still in New York” 

Eren’s eyes widened-- “You mean you think there’s at least 20 of them planning this?”

“Either that or they killed the rest,” said Armin, his teeth chattering briefly at the idea, “But I think they’re waiting for something. We just need to figure out what, so--” 

He had stopped abruptly, because he could hear the thud of boots against a wooden floor. It sounded as if it were above them--and then they heard a scraping sound as a door was shoved open. 

Both Eren and Armin immediately fell back against the wall, closing their eyes, and feigning sleep, as light poured in through the door and into the semi-basement that they were kept in. 

“I know you’re awake, brats.” Neither stirred. Footsteps approached. Eren’s eyes flicked under their lids. 

They heard a dry laugh. Eren froze, struggling to stay calm and not to cry out, because he was afraid--more afraid than he had been in a long time. 

He calmed his breathing. But the man already knew Eren was awake, and he debated whether or not to call the ruse. 

Eren wasn’t given much of a choice, though, as the unknown man’s hard boot met with his ribs. He gasped in pain and opened his eyes. 

His eyes were wide, and his pupils dilated from the burst of light, pain, and fear. The man let out another dry laugh. It sounded like it came from his stomach, but then got caught in his throat for a while before being released. 

Eren looked up towards his tormenter, but realized how powerless he was to avoid him. He was tied, his hands behind his back, and his legs looped together. 

He felt small, and he didn’t like it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Armin--his eyes wide open, not quite sure what had caused Eren’s shout. 

The two waited, unsure of what would come. But the man walked away, leaving the lights on, bright and unforgiving, as he returned to what seemed to be the main house. 

Eren could hear his own heartbeat, not just feel it. He was glad that the strange man left the light on, though. He preferred to the devil he could see compared to the devil he could not. 

Armin moved closer to Eren. The smaller boy was smart, and understood the situation--but was perhaps even more scared than Eren was. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered. Eren nodded miserably. He hadn’t quite gotten his breath back, and he was still shaking from the encounter. 

“I’ll be okay.” 

“I wish Mikasa was here,” said Armin, “she’d know what to do.” 

“I’m glad she isn’t,” said Eren, “us two having to go through shit is better. But--”

“Oh my God,” said Armin. “The explosion.” Both boys’ eyes widened, terrified at the prospect--what if Mikasa was hurt? Or worse, dead?  


“What if there’s no one coming for us, Eren?”


	10. Spaghetti

Eren couldn’t remember how many hours had passed. He drifted in and out of sleep, but the time must have not been very long, because the man had not descended to give them food--just a bit of water. 

When he woke up from a half sleep, though, he saw the man sitting in a chair, against the far wall, smoking a cigarette. The lighting was poor, but earthy, and Eren was struck by the man’s face. 

He had black hair, carefully cut, that hung around his face limply. It looked almost as if he wore makeup, but Eren couldn’t quite tell. He had dark, black bags under his eyes, and his skin tone was sallow. As if he hadn’t seen sun in quite some time. He was short, and muscular, and Eren noted that his clothing taste was questionable, but immaculate. 

The man hadn’t noticed that Eren had woken up--he was preoccupied with his cigarette--and so Eren took the opportunity to watch him in order to escape from his boredom. 

He dressed a little bit like Mikasa, actually. Almost down to the scarf. His pants were black jeans, a little faded, but with crisp edges, as if they’d been ironed. His shoes were heavy work boots, which showed some wear but had been recently polished. Eren stared at the shoes, for a while, counting scuff marks that had been buffed over with leather shoe polish. 

To match his black jeans, he wore a loose beige shirt--a button down, that he left untucked at the bottom. He had a brown leather jacket on top of that, and topped off the entire look with a white cravat. 

Eren nearly laughed. He acted and dressed like a pretentious asshole, and he looked the part with his half smoked cigarette, his left leg lazily draped over the side of a chair, staring off into space. 

The man, just then, twitched his lips into a smile. Eren didn’t like his lips. They were cold and austere, like his gray-blue eyes. They showed little remorse. 

They smirked at him, without the man’s eyes ever moving from their target--an indecipherable patch of wall away from Eren.

“Take a picture, brat. It will last longer.” Eren stared, mesmerized, almost not believing that the man was addressing him. The man smashed out his old cigarette into an ashtray, pulled out a new one, and lit it too. 

“You shouldn’t smoke.” Eren’s eyes were still large as saucers, but he felt more curiosity than he did fear. 

The man laughed abruptly before putting the cigarette down. “I don’t smoke. Just like I don’t kidnap kids from conservatories in New York.” 

Eren ignored the comment, except for an autonomic flinch. 

“You don’t look like a kidnapper. Or a terrorist, I guess.” Eren wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying. He was sure that if Armin was awake, he would have nudged him to shut up. But then again, Eren wasn’t easily dissuaded from his stupid conversation-starters. 

“No shit, kid. I’m just an engineer.” 

Eren stared more. The man shrugged, this time sizing up Eren directly, without staring into space. He coughed as he accidentally breathed in some smoke. 

“So if you don’t smoke, why did you kidnap kids from a conservatory in New York?”

“That logic was shit. But I get it. I don’t smoke, I smoke when I know I’m in a fucked up situation, and then I sit at the wall and smoke up a few packs a day.” He didn’t explain why he ended up in the “fucked up situation,” and Eren didn’t pry further; he just waited. 

The man looked up at Eren again, and introduced himself. “I’m Levi.” Eren continued staring, not quite sure what to think. 

“I’m gay,” said Eren. 

Levi coughed through a laugh, unable to stop from smiling ridiculously. “Kid, if I wanted to know your sexual orientation, I would have fucking asked. What’s your name?

Eren blushed furiously, and said, “Wait--I don’t know why I said that--wait!” If his hands weren’t tied behind him, he would have buried his face in them in his embarrassment. 

“Shit. Is your name really Gay? Because if so I need to have a serious discussion with your mother…” Levi raised his eyebrows amusedly, and waited for Eren to recover the shards that remained of his dignity. 

“No,” he replied, a little collected after his unthinking slip, “My name’s Eren. And I’m seriously not gay. I’m really not. I’m just--” 

“Kid. Eren,” he interrupted, “It’s okay. I understand.” He paused dramatically. “I have that effect on a lot of people.” 

Eren blushed again, and Levi struggled with all his might to keep a straight face. 

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious. Levi, whatever your name is. But I swear, I’m not gay.” 

Levi simply ignored him. “Trust me, kid. People are like spaghetti.” 

Eren waited for an explanation, which he was sure would be less than satisfactory. 

“Everyone’s straight until it gets hot.” With that, Levi swung his legs out of the chair, and walked up the stairs. 

“Fuck,” muttered Eren as he left, “can you bring us some water?”

Without turning around, Levi smiled.


	11. Alive or Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying!  
> :)

Mikasa got into Annie’s car. She didn’t feel as comfortable as she had before with Annie, it felt to Mikasa that she had seen only the small tip of a very large and formidable iceberg, and had assumed that the tip was all there was. 

Annie got into the drivers seat. She did up her seat belt, turned on the engine, and the car’s lights. And then she looked straight ahead, almost as if she was avoiding Mikasa’s eyes. 

“Did you get the water from the trunk?”

Mikasa nodded stiffly; she wanted to make Annie look at her to get her response. It worked, and Annie met her eyes with calm, ice blue eyes. 

Mikasa rose to the challenge, and kept her face motionless except for her eyes. Neither woman smiled. It was Annie who backed down first, though, for a simple reason: 

Annie attacked, Mikasa defended. And she who attacks is she who must retreat. 

After a moment, Annie smiled. Mikasa responded by relaxing imperceptibly, and she murmured into her scarf: 

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” 

Annie nodded in agreement. But she passed over that which Mikasa referred to--their staring match, and in instead commented on their mission. “We should probably make our reaction to Eren’s kidnapping a little more than an equal reaction. We have to destroy the initial action.”

“Even if your life is at stake?” replied Mikasa. 

“Especially so,” said Annie. She added a little more quietly; a little less certainly, “All my life, I’ve been preparing for war without knowing what battle I was going to fight. Only difference now is that I know. I have zero doubt that this is where my responsibility is.” 

Mikasa seemed satisfied. “Let’s go. Now. Tell me about our obligation on route.” 

And so Annie backed out the car, and began to explain. 

“At first, don’t ask any questions. This is going to make zero sense, but just bear with me, okay?”

Mikasa agreed, taking a sip of water. 

“When I first learned that your brother’s name was Eren Jaeger, I did some research. I researched background, parents, contacts, et cetera. There was a surplus of information, but really a deficiency of useful information. So, I did what I could. I started with contacts at the hospital--the paramedics who were first on the scene. From that, I got a description of a woman seen fleeing the scene barefoot. She’s the woman whose shoes I have at my apartment.”

Annie took a breath for a break; Mikasa did not speak or interrupt. 

“Well, that woman, apparently, grabbed the eye of one of the other nurses. He said that he had seen her talking to my Uncle Erwin a couple times before.”

Annie paused again, as if expecting Mikasa to already know what she would say. 

“Well?” supplied Mikasa, “did you find this mystery woman?”

“It turns out she’s a chemist, and she’s been arrested a couple times for drug possession, but she always managed to escape trial. No one at the department could tell me why. Anyway, I thought that it was--”

“Wait,” said Mikasa, “how did you find her identity?”

Annie waved her hand. “It’s not important, but anyway, I went to the police department, pretending I was sent by the hospital to look into a suspicious patient, and I got lucky. Turned out that the officer I talked to was the one who’d arrested her previously, and almost before I finished describing her, he pulled out a mugshot.” 

“I’ll have more questions later,” warned Mikasa. 

“I know.”

After a minute pause, she continued. “I thought it was suspicious that she always got away from trial. Also given that she’s a chemist, she could easily have the information necessary to make the kind of bomb that exploded at the conservatory. She’d only need a little help from an engineer, and a couple guys to actually put it all together in order to make massive explosions, actually. She has a lot of credentials. Why she messes with the law when she has so much potential is a little tough to explain.” 

“Unless she’s going for something big, though,” interjected Mikasa, “in which case, she’d want to get a hold on how law breaking works, on how to get money from drugs, and more. It makes perfect sense, actually. She looks like a prime suspect. However, that doesn’t explain what the obligation is.”

“Yea, that. I was getting there,” said Annie. “So, it turns out that this woman--her name is Dr. Hanji Zoe--has a habit of buying disposable phones to make her calls. I swear, she’s pretty close to professional.”

“That doesn’t bode well for your case that you quote ‘just did a bit of research,’” commented Mikasa. 

“So, because she uses disposable phones, she doesn’t have a cell phone number. However, she still calls my Uncle Erwin. He’s actually quite careless around me, and so I took his phone--she gestured to the cell phone that Mikasa had used to call her parents--and looked up recent numbers.” 

“I see,” Mikasa finished Annie’s train of thought, “then, you just called Dr. Zoe from Erwin’s phone, told her some bull shit threat, and arranged some meeting?”

“Not quite. But very close. I called her, and told her a very real threat: If she doesn’t meet us at the park near my apartment, in person, I will burn her and Erwin.”

“How?” 

“Well, actually, I’m not sure if Erwin’s involved. But it’s vaguely possible that he might have mentioned me to Dr. Zoe, because at the mention of my name, she agreed and hung up very quickly.” 

“Jesus Christ, Annie. You’re twenty-two, and she’s that fucking afraid?”

Annie smirked. “I thought you told Eren not to swear?”

“How do you know that?” Her eyes widened. She hated being taken off guard. 

“You said a few things more than Eren’s name in your sleep.” Mikasa would have liked to say that Annie’s smile was kind. But honestly, even from Mikasa’s eyes that viewed Mikasa as her only friend an ally, Annie’s smile was cruel. Almost sadistic. 

Mikasa would have liked to say that it scared her. But honestly, it didn’t. 

It made her feel alive.


	12. Armin Has Pretty Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I might go back and add chapters about how Annie gets to know Mikasa through her dreams. I know how I wrote it was kinda abrupt--my darling friend told me that--and I agree, I just wanted to let you guys know about that! I'm really not sure when I'm gonna write that, though, or how many chapters this thing is going to be. Please leave comments if you like it, hate it, or are relatively neutral! I really love hearing anything anyone has to say.

“God,” whispered Eren, in a voice just barely above oblivion, “he never leaves this place.” Eren could hear Levi’s work boots tread on the wood above them, most of the time, just pacing. The other bit of the time, Levi spent watching them directly, in a small chair, and often a laptop or notebook, where he could be seen typing furiously or writing in a small and neat cursive script. 

But before Eren could finish his comment to Armin, he heard the closer footsteps of Levi’s descension. This was by no means unusual; he came to see Eren and Armin several times a day, to let them get up (albeit separately, so he could make sure neither would attempt escape), visit the restroom, and sometimes shower. He would also bring them food, and Eren overall understood that their situation could be worse. 

After the first while, too, Levi had loosened their bonds. Eren was thankful for that, and only a little pissed at the burns on his wrists from the rope. Levi was good at knots, too--the rope had absolutely no give, despite both Eren and Armin’s efforts to escape their confines. 

As Levi’s work boots thudded on the floor, Eren considered what Armin had said last. 

“He’s let us see his face. And he told you a name, even if it’s not a real one. I still don’t know what it means.” 

Levi sighed, sat down on his chair, and cracked open a notebook. He glared threateningly at Armin and Eren, but somehow, Eren found that glare less intimidating knowing that behind it was a mind that held a carefully constructed mask of a brusque attitude to hide his cynical humor and actual concern for others. 

Still, Eren knew from experience (were his ribs just bruised, or broken?), that Levi’s violent outbursts were to be feared. 

Nevertheless, after he had gotten used to the whole situation, and felt confident enough in the fact that he wasn’t going to die, Eren got bored. He craved action, craved conversation, and his craving was enough for him to momentarily forget that the ropes around his wrists had been tied by none other than he whom Eren wished to speak with. 

But he waited what seemed like ten minutes, or so. Armin had lapsed into a stony silence beside him, calculating something in his mind. Armin was still terrified; Eren could tell, but the small blond still managed to put his fears behind him, and to figure out a strategy. 

Eren was glad for Armin’s intelligence, because Eren was shit at strategy. 

“What are you writing?” The idea to add Levi’s name at the end had crossed Eren’s mind, but he found when he came to say it, his mind and his tongue stumbled over it. Perhaps Eren nevertheless should have attempted, because Levi was unresponsive.   
His brows were furrowed, eyes sharply fixed on the small print in front of his eyes, as his pen slid smoothly over paper. Eren noted that Levi’s pen strokes were decisive, fast, and almost certainly neat. 

After a minute, though, Levi looked up; it was as if his brain had taken that time to process that Eren had spoken. 

“What did you say?” Eren cringed inwardly at Levi’s tone, which was bordering on hostile. 

“Uhh,” started Eren feebly, “I was just wondering what you were writing.”

“I’m writing a book,” said Levi shortly, “present tense, writing. Don’t bug me.” 

And he returned to his notebook. Eren sighed. Armin, in turn, shot Eren a threatening look--as threatening as the he could manage--as if to say, “Don’t talk to him.”

Eren shrugged at Armin, mouthing, “I’m bored!” Implied was, “And what the hell do you want me to do about it.”

Armin rolled his eyes, and the two continued their communication as silently as possible. Armin kept one eye on Levi, as if he could kill them with a glance. 

Well, technically, Levi could do whatever he wanted with them. Maybe that was why Armin watched him so carefully. Armin was wise to, as well, because he noticed that Levi shot Eren an angry glance whenever Eren so much breathed loudly. 

“Jesus Christ!” Levi exclaimed, after just a few moments, “You talk loud, you breath loud, you fucking mouth words loudly!” He slammed his book shut and came towards them. Armin cowered against the wall; as much as he would have been ashamed to admit it, he was thankful that Eren was closer to the intimidating older man. 

Eren’s heart rate rose, too: he had no intention of nearly getting his ribs broken again. Before Levi had stepped more than a few paces in their direction, Eren’s eyes widened, and he said, “Okay! I’m sorry! I’ll shut up!” 

Levi pivoted sideways, looked at Eren and Armin suspiciously, and without another word, clomped up the stairs into his main living area. 

Eren and Armin shared a not-so-secret sigh of relief. 

“Okay,” started Armin, “What I was going to say is this: this Levi guy or whatever is so not a terrorist. He’s organized, disciplined, and stuff, but he doesn’t seem like the sort of guy who would be involved in crime, you know?”  
“Yep,” agreed Eren, not elaborating. 

“I think he got conned into this. He wasn’t part of the initial plan. He said he was just an engineer, so what about this? What if he was the guy who engineered all the mechanisms of the attack, including the bomb? And then, something went wrong--because this basement is way too dangerous and not well protected enough for a terrorist group of the caliber who pulled off that stunt…”

“What kinda engineer writes a book, though?”

Armin rolled his eyes. “Eren, you’re completely missing the point. He doesn’t act like he has experience with this. Otherwise he would try to write his book while--face it, spoiling--his two kidnapping charges. He tried to seem tough at first, when he kicked you, but my guess is that he views us as an inconvenience.” 

“So how do we get out?”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about, but it’s harder to plan than you would assume.”

“No shit,” muttered Eren, “nothing comes to mind either. Other than the fact that there are a few obstacles in our way.” 

Armin nodded in approval. “That’s a good first logical step. If we are to organize what those obstacles were--” 

He trailed off, and Eren smiled sarcastically at the fact that Armin had attempted to pull at his hands so he could count off the ‘obstacles’ with his fingers. Armin sighed.

“Anyway. First off, there’s the rope,” finished Armin, “And then there’s Levi himself. He’s shorter than you and me, but he doesn’t look like he’s super weak, either. Again, he looks like an army guy to me, but it’s not like I have tons of experience with that.”

“I hope Mikasa’s okay,” interrupted Eren. He paused, seeing Armin’s look of confusion: Mikasa, although her situation bothered them frequently, was not a main topic of conversation. “She wanted to join the military, for a while. After--you know, what happened when we were little. But then, I dunno. She got into music. But she still plays violin like its a discipline. I dunno. Just my impression.”

Armin looked at Eren, concerned. “That’s actually really accurate. I didn’t think of it like that. It’s like she uses music because she needs it, not because she likes it. Whereas you and me--I guess we’re a little different.” 

“Yea.” Eren shrugged his shoulders, and commented, “You know, I think that none of the people in advanced symphony actually like music. Ymir, Christa, Mikasa, Reiner--they all use music, they don’t enjoy it. At least, they don’t act like it.”

“Marco does, though,” said Armin, “I honestly think Marco is one of the kindest guys I’ve ever met. I don’t know how he does it.” 

“And I don’t know how he puts up with Jean. Fucking Jean.”

“They’re best friends. Best friends put up with a lot,” supplied Armin, simply. 

“Hey! Are you talking about me?” 

Armin cracked a smile--the first one that he had since their confinement. “I hope they’re all okay,” he said, “even the people I don’t like.”

“I know,” commiserated Eren, “Even Jean. I’ve wished death on people, but I never really thought--” 

Sighing, Armin’s bright blue eyes conveyed all that he really wanted to say to Eren. “This is awful. This is really awful, but that doesn’t mean it was your fault. And I’m so glad that you're okay.” 

Eren looked into Armin’s eyes, and replied, “I know. This is shit. But it wasn’t my fault, or yours for that matter. I’m glad I still have you. I don’t know what I’d be doing if I were alone right now.”


	13. Things Get Interesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get interesting.... My longest chapter yet! I hope you guys like it.

Days had passed, and Eren was bored out of his mind now that he had time to feel other things than fear. Unsurprisingly, one of those other things he thought about was Levi. 

Eren was strangely charmed by Levi, by how his black hair hung over his ears, how his face was framed in his neat undercut, how his eyes spit insults under their widely spaced lids, how his mouth curves permanently into an accusing frown, how the furrow above his eyes relax when he opens his notebook. And when Levi was gone, even if he left soundlessly and in the dark, Eren could tell when he passed by. He smelled like autumn, like scotch, like spicy cologne and cigars and worn leather. It was strangely calming, strangely exhilarating. But that was frankly how Eren experienced most things in life--like he had told Mikasa almost a lifetime ago--

Life is cruel, but beautiful. 

Levi was cruel. And Eren thought him the most beautiful apparition that he had ever seen. And Levi very much was an apparition. Eren did not understand time: he had been away from daylight for too long; but Eren understood that time passed in phases of Levi’s appearance and disappearance. 

Armin and he had tried to escape, once. They thought they couldn’t hear Levi in the apartment above, so they struggled to untie the rope that bound them to the basement. They had managed to loosen Eren’s rope, and Eren’s rope only, after over an hour, before footsteps above faded back into their consciousnesses. It would have been futile, anyway. Levi kept a knife with him at all times, the door was most likely locked, the rope was tight. Levi was strong, they were weak. 

Despite the obstacles, though, they would have felt guilty for not trying: guilty for those that almost certainly were trying to get them home. 

But there were more than enough obstacles to prevent their feeble consideration of escape. And so, spurred by Armin’s superior intelligence, they switched tactics to gather information about their situation, as often as they could. They would discuss this information whenever Levi was gone. It was decided that Eren was better at gathering said information, but he often had no idea what conclusions could be drawn based on what he observed.

It was no wonder that he and Armin were best friends; their information exchanges were natural, and though it seemingly had little effect on their situation, it helped pass the time and made them feel less desperate. 

“Levi cleans the basement twice a week,” commented Eren, “and he’s cleaned it five times since we’ve been here. That’s when he locks one of us in the storage closet, and makes one of us help him.” 

Armin nodded. “That means we’ve been here for about two and a half weeks, I guess.” Unspoken was that they were no closer to freedom than they were the first day of their imprisonment, when they were herded into a van with six others--

Armin didn’t want to think about it. He was so tired of thinking; that was all there was to do around here. It was a cycle of sleeping, waking, eating twice a day, showering when Levi wrinkled his nose in disdain at one or both of them, getting up when Levi said to, thinking noiselessly when Levi watched them with his nose buried in his notebook. 

Conclusion: Stagnation is exhausting. 

Eren and Armin had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence when Eren spoke. 

“Armin, you know in high school when we’d gossip about who we liked, and stupid crap?”

“Yea…” Armin hesitated, “of course. But why?”

“I dunno. I guess, I’m bored, so I think about a lot of crap.”

“Like?” Armin was trying to resist rolling his eyes at Eren, but when he realized that Eren was actually seriously concerned about whatever he was about to say, he sobered. 

“Like, you know, I’m pretty sure I actually haven’t.” 

“Haven’t what?”

“Like, had a crush on a girl. So I was wondering what’s it like? Maybe I have, but just didn’t realize it?”

“You said you had a crush on Petra, once, though. When we were like eleven,” returned Armin. 

“Yea,” said Eren, wrinkling his nose, “But I think I kinda lied. She was more like a mom than a crush, I guess. Kinda like Mikasa.”

Armin smiled softly. “I used to like Mikasa,” he reminisced, “but then again, who wouldn’t?” 

“Armin! You never told me that! And the tone in your voice--do you still like her?”

“No, I’ve moved on, I guess. Don’t really have a crush right now. But I liked her for a long time. From when I was ten to about three years ago.” He blushed a little in the half-light.

“You liked her for five years and you didn’t fucking tell me? Your best friend?” Eren was a little incredulous. Armin blushed more, but he had a reasonable response. 

“She told me not to tell you.” He shrugged a little, like it hadn’t hurt him. But Eren knew Armin too well for that. 

“You confessed to her without telling me first? Highly unlikely!”

“Well, yea. She guessed before I was gonna tell you. Besides, it’s weird, ‘cause she’s pretty much your sister.” 

“Hmm,” responded Eren non discriminately, “tell me more.”

“She said it was something about my expressive eyes. That I couldn’t be subtle if my life depended on it, cause my thoughts shine through my eyes. She was really nice about it, actually.”

“She rejected you, though?” 

“Not exactly--well, yea she kinda did. She was sweet, though, she said that if she ever planned on dating a guy, she’d let me know. It was funny actually. She all but said that-- Anyway, she told me not to tell you. I figured she’d tell you when she was ready…”

“Wait. Hold on. Are you telling me that five years ago, Mikasa told you she was...like, into girls?”

Armin shrugged. “Could be that. She just said that she wasn’t into guys; besides, she was fourteen and I was thirteen. It’s hardly like--”

“Umm, no, Armin. I’m pretty sure that makes sense of a lot, actually. Oh my God, though...No wonder she never felt--” 

Eren trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “You’re a good friend to me, and to Mikasa. Thank you for that. If we don’t ever get out of here--”

“I know,” said Armin, “I understand. But we’ll get out of here. What were you going to say?”

“My parents, well, moreover my dad--and my mother sorta just had this disapproving look on her face-- my dad explicitly said that he would cut either or both of us off if we were gay--this came up because his younger brother came out, and he didn’t take it too well. He cut off contact with him entirely, and well--” 

Armin nodded encouragingly, “And?”

“Well, it may make sense of why Mikasa loved my mom but felt as if she couldn’t, you know, be the daughter that they wanted. I knew she felt like that but I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Maybe,” considered Armin. “And that really, really, sucks. But it could also be because your parents were kind of hands off, especially at first, and you guys fought a bit after you first brought her home. She already felt unwanted--she was only nine.”

“I don’t understand how she is always so strong. I really hope she’s okay. I really want to see her again. I feel like she deserves better than anyone. She’s a fucking angel.” 

Armin nodded his assent, and rolled closer to Eren so their shoulders touched. “It’ll be okay. We’ll see Mikasa again, you’ll get your first crush, we’ll live like normal, and you’ll get a sax scholarship to some great college, she’ll play violin, it’ll be great. We have to believe that.” He smiled encouragingly at Eren. 

Eren smiled shyly, just a little bit. “That’s just it, though. I think I’ve had my first crush. And I can’t have that and a normal life.” 

“What? Are you saying that you-- Who?”

“Him,” breathed Eren quietly, “I’ve never felt like this towards anyone else.”

“But--here? Of all places? And--him?”

Eren nodded miserably. “But, you know, it could be worse?”

“Hardly!” said Armin, “And ummm, would you mind explaining how this situation could legitimately be worse?”

“Well, he could like me back. That would be worse. Or, he could hate me, and he could have killed us already. That would be worse too.”

“You know what?” said Armin. 

“What?”

“Forget I asked.”

“But Armin, it’s not just that. I like the fact that I like him.” 

“Oh,” said Armin, “then, it’s worse than I thought. You don’t wanna leave.”

“I wanna see Mikasa?” (Does that count?)

“Nope, that’s not the same,” Armin shook his head dejectedly, “we have a problem. You do realize that Levi is a fucking terrorist?”

“You tell me not to swear, Armin. Don’t be angry,” commented Eren defensively. 

“But you can’t deny it!”

“He’s just an engineer, though.”

“Yea, so he said! But he’s locking us in a basement. That’s hardly a sign of his upright moral character.” Armin was still shaking his head. “Look, I know it’s easy for me to say, because I’ve always just assumed that I’m straight, but did you seriously not know that you were sexually attracted to guys? And if you seriously didn’t, why the heck is Levi, of all people, your first attraction?”

Now it was Eren’s turn to blush. “Well, I sorta knew...but I thought it was normal, I guess. I don’t really know. I never talked about it, I never wanted to talk about it.” 

“It’s not that it’s abnormal, it just means you’re definitely not straight. So are you bi, or gay?”

“That feels weird,” said Eren, “I don’t know. I don’t like how those words sound.”

“No kidding,” returned Armin. The two boys hesitated a moment, before Eren spoke again, his voice tinged with amusement. 

“You know how I hated Jean?”

“Eren...oh my God… Jean? Really, Jean? I swear. You have the worst taste.”

Eren laughed slightly. “Only briefly, I guess. Enough to make me hate him, but it wore off fast.”

“Good. Jean might be more of a dweeb than Levi.”

“Levi’s not--”

Eren wasn’t sure what to say after that. He took offense to it, but he let it slide--given that they heard the sound of workboots descending into the basement. Armin let out a sigh of desperation, and even Levi--who was normally oblivious to when the two boys were talking about him right before he came down to the basement--noticed that there was an odd sort of tension in the air. 

He raised his eyebrows sardonically: “Am I interrupting something, brats?” Eren blushed more than he should have for an innocuous comment. His ears burned, and Armin rolled his eyes. 

“Well?” insisted Levi. 

“Nope!” exclaimed Eren, exaggerating his carelessness. Levi made no comment as he turned away to sit in his leather chair. 

A few minutes passed uneventfully. Eren purposefully avoided the gaze of Armin, who wore an expression of fatigue. If this situation weren’t so serious, he would have been amused. But Levi very literally could kill them if he so wished, and all Eren could think about is what Levi looked like naked. 

Stupid Erenian hormones. Eren never could control himself, Armin considered. Which meant that this situation would rapidly digress until Levi learned the truth about Eren’s feelings; and then the situation would really rapidly digress. 

So Armin thought, anyway. But if Mikasa thought he was obvious, then she should really have known that Eren was gay, by this point. 

Hell, maybe she did know. It didn’t really matter, though. Not at this point, not when it seemed clear that Eren was about to burst, and actually say something to Levi. God, he was so stupid. 

“Levi?”

“What is it this time, brat? Didn’t you have enough fun embarrassing yourself with our last conversation?”

“Nope. Couldn’t get enough.” Eren was smiling like an idiot. Good Lord. Armin cringed on behalf of his friend. 

“Well? What did you want?”

“I was just wondering what you normally are like. What you normally do, you know. Crap like that.”

“You mean other than serially kidnapping attractive eighteen year old boys?” This could not be happening, thought Armin. Was Levi seriously flirting back with Eren? This is ridiculous. And what previous conversations were there? Had Armin been asleep? 

Eren grinned even broader. “Are you flirting with me?” 

Armin banged his head against the wall that he was propped up against. Eren gave him a look of disdain, and Levi glanced his direction, too. But neither commented. 

“Yes, actually. Got to keep my flirting skills sharp so my boyfriend won’t get some other guy…”

Eren rolled his eyes and hid a small frown. 

“Boyfriend?” stuttered Eren. Levi made a “tchh” noise, and Armin rolled his eyes obviously. Whatever Eren initially was going to say was long forgotten. Levi was, after all, uncomfortably proficient at shutting down conversations that he didn’t want to partake in. Nevertheless, Eren was nothing if not persistent. 

“What’s his name?”

Levi continued staring at his notebook. “Erwin.”

“And?” insited Eren, now legitimately curious, “What’s he like?”

“Tchh,” Levi complained, but then he smirked a little, closing his book. It was so easy to make Eren feel uncomfortable. “He’s hot.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “And?”

“Why do you even care?” returned Levi bitingly. Eren shrugged, and so Levi continued. 

“He’s hot as hell, tall, and blond. He’s smart, observant, quiet, and sometimes caring. He saved my life when I was fifteen. And he’s a manipulative, obsessive, arrogant, controlling, compulsively lying asshole.” 

“Oh,” said Eren. 

“I wasn’t planning on saying all that,” said Levi noncommittally.

“But you did?”

“I broke up with him yesterday.”

“Oh,” said Eren awkwardly. An even more awkward silence ensued. Is that where Levi had gone while him and Armin had attempted their half-assed escape? 

“God, I don’t know why I’m going to say this, but fuck it even though I’ll regret it.” He hesitated a moment before continuing, “I’d get piss drunk and he would just watch me, and then he’d make me drink water so I wouldn’t get hungover...I’d try to get him drunk but he’s a doctor and he disapproves of drinking. He’d never drink more than a glass of wine at once. I never really liked him when I was sober, though. Sometimes when I was only half-drunk, we’d get along the best. I’d write poetry, he’d plan some fucked up scheme, then get me a little drunker until I went along with it. And then--yea, you don’t need to know the rest.”

“You write poetry, too?” asked Eren. 

“Of course,” growled Levi. Eren didn’t dare ask to hear any of it, but Armin could tell that he wanted to. And so, struggling to keep in mind the gravity of the situation, and to keep a straight face, Armin braced himself to do Eren a huge favor. And, well, if he was perfectly honest, he wanted to satisfy his curiosity too. 

“Would you mind reading one out loud?” asked Armin, in as polite a voice as he could muster, “I mean, I don’t mean to bother you, but…”

Levi looked genuinely surprised. “The blond one speaks. I’m tempted to say yes. But I only write in French--for poetry, at least. Eyebrows liked it better, even though he didn’t understand it.”

“Eyebrows?” asked Eren. 

“Erwin,” Levi explained. 

“Oh. Can we hear a poem anyway?” continued Eren. He didn’t want to miss out on the chance that Armin had set up for him. 

“No.”

“Why? It can’t be that bad,” laughed Eren. 

“Tchh. Shitty brat, of course it’s not bad. I just don’t know if I want to share it.” But that was a lie. Already, he could feel his heartbeat rise at the idea of sharing his poetry. 

“One stanza! Com’on, Levi!” 

“Fine,” conceded Levi, perhaps more easily than he should have, “Fine. Just let me find a half-way decent one.” 

“I thought they were all good?” teased Eren. 

“Shut up and listen,” said Levi. And then he began. 

“There’s no title.  
Tu es la memoire d’un baiser velours,  
Le ciel d’un nouveau coeur;  
L’influence qui change mon ame,  
La perle de plus de cent mille dames--  
Tu es la laceration de la langue,  
Qui brule quand je me mens,  
Tu es la cri aigue qui j’ignore,  
Et les larmes qui tournent dans l’or.”

Eren and Armin waited. 

“It’s decisively good,” said Armin (as if he’d say it wasn’t)

“What does it mean?” asked Eren. 

“Figure it out for yourself, brat,” replied Levi--his revenge for being happily bothered. 

Armin shrugged, and answered Eren’s question. 

“Roughly, it would be this:  
You are the memory of a velvet kiss,  
The heavenly skies within new love,  
The influence who has changed my soul,  
The pearl of a hundred thousand queens,  
You are the laceration of my tongue  
That burns when I lie to myself. You are the acute cry that I ignore, And tears that turn to gold.” 

“You speak French?” asked Eren and Levi at the same time. 

“Wait--” interjected Levi, “You mean you were his best friend and didn’t fucking know that Armin speaks French?”

“It’s really not that much,” said Armin. 

“But you’re taking German at school!”

“Yea,” said Armin, “but only because I’m mostly fluent in French. They would have made me take over French 1, and I didn’t want to do that. So I took German.”

“But how did you learn French? Besides, that didn’t sound like simple French, either. And why didn’t you tell me?” Eren was confused as to how Armin had never mentioned this. 

“You never asked. Didn’t come up, I guess. My grandfather is French, my grandmother is English. So since my grandfather has mostly raised me, he taught me French when I was little. I lost some of it, though, because I don’t speak it very often.”

“Formidable,” muttered Levi, “C’est vraiment interessant.” 

“Ouais, merci,” replied Armin, “Vous etes plus gentil en francais.” 

“What the fuck,” said Eren, “what the fuck are you guys saying.”

“Don’t swear,” chastised Armin. “It’s not polite.” 

“Yea? And it’s not polite to talk about people behind their back in another freaking language.” 

“Brat, we have better things to talk about than you. You’re really not that interesting, you know?” Levi, by this point, had had enough: he slammed his notebook shut and said, “You know, you both are full of crap. Armin, you set me up. And Eren, you’re just a shithead.” 

And he walked up the stairs, not giving either enough time to defend themselves.


	14. Am I Clear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im so sorry it's been a while :(  
> Hope y'all enjoy.

It was soon after that Annie pulled into another apartment complex--this one, Mikasa assumed, was Annie’s home. She took a deep breath, as if she were bracing for an onslaught of cold air, and she was almost surprised when no such thing greeted her when she opened the door. Annie smiled softly at her, sympathetically, almost, when she got out of the car door. 

“My apartment’s up this way. I’m lucky. Only one flight of stairs.” 

Mikasa returned Annie’s small smile, and followed her through the dingy stairwell that Annie so frequently used. 

“Annie--where do we have to be for our obligation with this Hanji person?”

“I told her Central Park.” 

“Which end?”

“Whichever one is by here. Here is Harlem, by the way. And it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Mikasa nodded. “I know.” 

She did not elaborate, but Annie gave her a sharp, observant look. Mikasa pretended that she did not notice. Annie and Mikasa walked up the steps, and Annie pointed at the door that was hers. It was one of three relatively large flats (large for New York, that is), and the door looked like it had seen a few too many years. 

Mikasa could hardly believe it when Annie took out a key--one of those actual, old, hand keys. She struggled with the door, which seemed to be resisting her efforts, for several minutes before it shook open. Annie flicked on the light, and said, “Well. This is it.”

She waved her hands around a surprisingly narrow but long apartment. The entrance way was not more than three and a half feet wide, but it opened up into a two bedroom apartment that was comfortable considering there was only Annie. The entire apartment looked rundown, but pristine. It was difficult to tell that anyone actually lived there, because everything--from the kitchen with its glimmering albeit old pots and pans--to the perfectly made bed in the main bedroom--was in place. 

Mikasa was not surprised. Not in the least, and she barely suppressed a smile. This was the sort of apartment she would like; this was the sort of apartment she would have, one day. The only interference with her plan was the beautiful disaster that she called her brother. Eren seemed to have other plans for his own cleanliness, and thus Mikasa was left feeling frustrated with her less-than-military grade organization. 

“Wait,” said Annie. “Someone’s been here, and it wasn’t me.” 

“How do you know?” Mikasa inadvertently whispered.

“I left traps in case anyone came in. I don’t know how they got in without ruining the door, though. But they--or she, because I’m assuming that it was Hanji or one of her associates--they moved this grain of rice that I left on the ground, and they moved a few other things that I set out for that purpose. It’s okay. I expected this.”

“Okay,” said Mikasa. “What time are we meeting Hanji, again, and what time is it now? Also, does she expect you to be alone, or with someone else?”

“It’s 11:30 right now, we need to be there in twenty minutes. She expects me alone, but you’re going to come and make yourself scarce. She might recognize you, and we don’t want that; we don’t want you to be perceived as a threat too soon.”

“I need a disposable cell phone so we can contact each other. Also, I’d like a watch and one of your throwing knives. The rest I think I can take care of.”

“I expected the phone. It’s in the bedroom. I have a safe that I doubt Hanji found. That’s also where my knives are. The password is something that I won’t say, but I’ll get you the phone and the knife. You can look around for a watch, I think I have an extra one somewhere. You can leave your duffel here; I set traps on the place so that people won’t come again. I just wanted to see where they searched, and how professional they were.”

They organized their materials, and promptly left. Mikasa brought with her a book, and she planned to survey the scene while Annie discussed things with Hanji. Par their agreement, Annie called Mikasa and kept the line open, with Mikasa on mute. 

 

Hanji tapped her foot impatiently. She wore her normal glasses, her hair stuffed behind her into a disagreeable ponytail, and held a green umbrella with her insignia on it. 

It was misting slightly, and so she appreciated her windbreaker and open umbrella. She was still a bit cold, though, especially along her waist, where she had duct taped two of her best knives. They made her feel secure. Also, her purse held a small handgun: she had asked for Erwin’s advice, and he had all but ordered her to show up to placate his niece. The knives and handgun were her idea, though, because she knew that Annie was physically capable of killing her, and she didn’t want to risk that. Erwin, though, would be even more pissed if she or Annie got hurt in this entire fiasco; he was none too happy about her slip ups that lead to the discovery of their involvement. 

Well, fuck him. It was hardly like she was jumping for joy. 

She was glad she had come to the back entrance of Central Park, their meeting place, a little early. It was 11:45, and she expected Annie would likewise come early. Mike had done her a huge favor by figuring out details about Annie and her residence, and he had found out that the girl lived nearby, on 113th street. The neighborhood looked a little sketchy--it was Harlem, after all, but it wasn’t as bad as she had expected. The people on the street, who regularly hung out, despite having residences up and down the avenue, were remarkably friendly. Unfortunately for Hanji, though, she found them to be extremely loyal, considering Annie to be a part of their vast 113th street family, and thus they Hanji was unable to glean any details from Annie’s neighbors. 

Given that, actually, someone had probably seen Mike searching Annie’s apartment, and if that was the case, she had to assume that Annie knew that Hanji was keeping tabs on her. But then again, any person short of an amateur would realize that messing with Hanji would get them searched up at the very least. 

Fortunately, there were no shortages of stories that dotted Annie’s history. Fortunately, it seemed that Hanji would be more than able to make something of the information Mike had so kindly found for her. 

She did have to make up for her boyfriend’s favor with some results, anyhow. 

Leaning her umbrella across a bench, Hanji sat down, ignoring the dampness that pervaded through her loose pants. Fall weather sucked. At least it was a break from the scorching humidity of summer, though. And rain was sometimes kinda fun. 

A short blond girl joined her on the bench. She held a small satchel in her left hand, and an icy smirk on her lips. Hanji avoided looking directly at her, and instead spoke softly and deliberately--uncharacteristically so, for her. (Mike would be impressed)

“What did you want to discuss?”

“You have something of mine, and I have something of yours. I’m proposing an exchange.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hanji alleged stubbornly. 

“I think you’re lying,” said Annie. 

“What sort of trade did you have in mind? I can hook you up with dealers from all around town, if you’re looking.”

“I’m not interested in drugs, nor prostitution, nor whatever other little flimsy schemes that you’re keeping as your cover. I am curious why, though.”

Hanji couldn’t resist. She couldn’t fucking resist. She hated herself even as she spoke, for betraying too much, but--she couldn’t fucking resist. 

“Because there are people who are born with silver spoons in their mouths, and there are people born forgotten. The people born forgotten are cast about in society, and they damn well stay forgotten. And that’s all that people care about. But I want to show people that those born on the streets are worth caring for, are worth more than people who were given everything they ever needed.” 

Annie nodded appreciatively. “I have no problem with that. Some would say it’s an admirable cause. But I say you don’t know shit.” 

Hanji stood up. “If you came here to assert your stupid, dominatrix little ego over anyone who’ll listen, I think I’ll go now.” God, she was angry. 

Annie’s lips curved into a cruel little smile. “But don’t you remember why you came in the first place?”

Hanji cracked her knuckles awkwardly, and readjusted her glasses. “Look. What do you want?”

“I want you to give me back Eren Jaeger. It’s as simple as that. And if you do, I’ll leave you alone. And if you don’t, I will do everything I can to bring shit down on your fucked up organization. Am I clear enough?”


	15. Central Park

On the other end of the line, listening to Annie’s threats, Mikasa bristled. It was all well and good for Annie to trade for Eren back, but Mikasa wasn’t quite that single minded. She hadn’t forgotten about Armin, and Ymir, and Christa, who had also been among those abducted. 

Maybe this was part of Annie’s ploy, though. She reserved judgement for when Annie returned; Annie seemed to know what she was doing, anyway. But maybe Mikasa hadn’t made it clear enough that she was scared not just for Eren, but for her missing classmates too. 

"What is Eren Jaeger to you anyway?"

Mikasa listened carefully at the phone, but she heard a distinctive click. Annie had hung up the phone. But was it intentional? Or just bad luck?

Mikasa decided to get closer to the situation. She stood up from the bench she was sitting at, and leaned over a railing of a small bridge that revealed Annie's blond head and Hanji's umbrella several feet below. 

There was little that she could hear or see, so she recoiled and surveyed her surroundings. A tall man, with dirty blond hair that was pushed behind his ears, stood as if he was waiting for something. He had a thin line of a mustache, and a delicately sharp shaped nose. He peered intently at the two women below, and Mikasa felt certain that he was Hanji's backup. 

Mikasa set to prove that, though, by approaching him. She was not uncertain about her physical ability, and she convinced herself there was no reason to be nervous; the more information she could gather about Hanji’s associates, the better. 

She flipped back her hair nonchalantly, and approached the man. She put on a slightly fake smile, and focused on seeming normal. 

“Hi there, um,” she began. 

The man turned towards her looking slightly surprised, but he remained calm. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“Yea, actually,” she said, grinning sheepishly, “I was taking the day to explore Central Park, but I think I got turned around and I can’t seem to find my map. Could you point me in the direction of the South entrance?”

“Hmm,” considered the man, “It’s pretty close, actually. Shouldn’t be more than a half mile down that path there.” 

“Really? Thanks. I just moved here, actually, from Philadelphia, and I’m a total mess! I’ve hardly met anybody.”

“My name’s Mike,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. You should be careful, though, what company you keep. New York can get interesting, especially at night.” His smile was surprisingly friendly, and he continued, “But I’m sure you have things figured out. Do you live near Harlem?”

Shit, thought Mikasa. Somehow he was getting more information out of her than she was getting from him. But it’s fine, it’s fine: they were just exchanging pleasantries. 

“Yea, actually. I’m up around 123rd street. What about you?”

“I live with my girlfriend close to Broadway. It’s nice there, but expensive as hell for a small little place.” 

“That’s New York, for you. My name’s Mica, by the way. That was rude of me not to introduce myself, sorry.” 

He waved his hand, indicating that he had taken no offense. “Mica. That’s an interesting name. Like the rock?”

Mikasa nodded agreeably. “I guess so. I’m half Japanese, so I guess my mom wanted my name to have some Japanese sound to it, anyway. But Mica isn’t a totally uncommon name here, I think.” 

“You’re right,” replied Mike, “But I should let you get on with your exploration. I’m just waiting for my girlfriend to finish arguing with her sister.” He gestured to Hanji and Annie below, and Mikasa struggled not to react. He was a skilled liar. 

But two could play this game. 

“Really?” She peered down at the two women. “I could have sworn I recognized the blond haired one. Do you know if she ever lived in Philadelphia? Wow. That’s really remarkable.”

“I don’t know anything about her sister,” said Mike. “They don’t get along very well, and just come talk occasionally. Don’t ask me why, but nobody gets along very well with her.” His expression turned dark, as if he were legitimately angry with Hanji’s nonexistent sister for raising Hanji’s ire. Mikasa couldn’t even be sure if Hanji was his girlfriend, given how many lies were spouting from his chiseled mouth. 

“But yea. I should be going. Thanks a lot, Mike!” 

And Mikasa continued down the trail where Mike had directed her, vowing to question Annie about why she hung up later. 

 

Mikasa waited restlessly by the entrance of Central Park. She would have retreated further away, in case Mike or Hanji emerged from the park first, but she didn’t want to risk missing Annie. 

She tapped her foot against the sidewalk, which was slightly overgrown with weeds, and she considered her interaction with Mike. 

Had it been foolish of her to approach him? It wasn’t suspicious to talk to someone, but what if she let something that even she was unaware of knowing, slip? 

A knot of apprehension settled in her stomach like a slimy weight, and she contemplated telling Annie. Would she be angry? 

Ugh. This was ridiculous. How, and since when, was she considering her actions with such weight, especially in regards to another person? She had always tried to live in the moment, plan for the future, and reflect on the past when necessary, but she was never one to dwell or wallow. So why now? Granted, she was at her emotional breaking point, without Eren, her musical career in shambles, while she attempted to go on a hopeless quest, but she considered herself strong. Strong enough to handle whatever was thrown at her. 

She tapped her foot against the sidewalk, in time with the drip of condensation from a nearby railing. The wind was picking up, but fortunately the mist had not increased. The sun was at its zenith, lazily blearing at her through a cloud. She glanced at her watch, and was surprised to see that only fifteen minutes had passed since they had arrived at the park. 

She waited for a few more minutes before Annie emerged, nonchalant as ever, from the small walkway they had initially travelled. A small smirk played on her lips, but other than that, signs of her supposed victory were imperceptible. 

Mikasa approached her quickly, watching behind Annie to ensure that Hanji and Mike had not followed her out. As Mikasa drew close to her, Annie spoke quietly: “Let’s hurry back to the apartment. Did you see if Hanji had anyone with her?”

“She had at least one person. He said his name was Mike, but he could have been lying.”

“You talked to him?” asked Annie sharply. 

“He noticed that I was looking around as if I was looking for someone or something, so I approached him and asked him for directions. He offered his name, and said that Hanji was his girlfriend who was ‘talking to her sister.’” 

“Convincing liar?” 

“Very,” agreed Mikasa. “Why did you hang up the phone?”

“I’m sorry,” said Annie quietly, “I shouldn’t have panicked.”

“It’s fine, Annie. But why did you hang up after she asked you about Eren?”

“Listen, Mica. I realized something. I went to meet with Hanji thinking that I could just bargain for Eren’s life. But you don’t just want Eren back, right? You want all your friends who are missing to be safe, and you want to bring in the people who are responsible. Am I right?”

Mikasa nodded. “I was afraid when you hung up, because I thought that that meant that you were just going to bargain for Eren. Truth is, I’d rather get him than not, but I don’t know if I could live with myself if I saved him and not the others if I was at all capable.” 

Annie said, “I hung up because I took a guess that it would be easier to explain after-- Sorry, I know that that doesn’t make sense, but I felt myself losing my cool: not because of Hanji, but because I knew that you were listening. I shouldn’t have let that affect me. I’m sorry.”

Mikasa shook her head. “Let’s just go back to the apartment.”


	16. Four Dead, Three Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and three more broken hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im really sorry guys, I realized I fucked up a bit with this chapter: Levi isn't supposed to know Christa (or anyone else's name) so bear with me ;__; i'm sorry  
> also i took away the part about armin knowing who died because he used to date mina so that's kinda important. it'll make sense later im so sorry.

The phone ring interrupted his thoughts. Petra rarely called Levi, and when she did, it was almost always with orders from Erwin. he answered after the first two rings, and waited for her to speak. 

“Qu’est-ce qui s’est passe?”

“Levi, get off your stupid French throne or I’ll guillotine you. You know I have absolutely no idea what you just said.” 

“What is it, Petra?” he translated. 

“Orders from Erwin. Hanji’s been discovered; there was an information breach, and it’s hard to know if you’ve been discovered too. There’s a risk. Erwin’s call will come. Any questions?”

Levi’s eyes widened in alarm. “Fucking Erwin. Did he burn me on purpose?” he asked her. As if she would know. And even if she did know, she wouldn’t tell him. Still, Levi had to ask. 

“Erwin? Why would he burn you?”

Right, thought Levi. Fucking Erwin and his shitty requests. Petra hadn’t known that they had been lovers, not even Hanji had known, although she had indubitably suspected. 

“Why wouldn’t he?” responded Levi viciously. 

“Why are you angry? He’s doing the best he can to cover for the situation!” Petra sounded unusually defensive. Levi’s blood ran cold. That could mean only one thing. 

“How long have you two been fucking?” 

He could hear Petra’s angry shudder. Hell, even he would have shuddered at a question like that coming from a close friend. It was crass, and rude as hell. But Levi had to know, and he was hardly one to soften the blows of his words with false modesty. 

Petra hung up. Levi was not particularly surprised, but he bit back an angry cry nevertheless. He had been just another of Erwin’s games, just another of his fucking projects, just another person to be manipulated. He should have known. He should have fucking known. 

The inside of his throat felt raw. The skin under his perfectly kept nails itched. He grit his teeth and dug his thumb nail into his arm. He seesawed it back and forth, got up from his chair, and slammed his right foot against the floor. He wanted to kick something, preferably the wall, but didn’t want to have to fix it like last time. 

God. He had prided himself on being intelligent, calm, engaging, ahead of the curve. And to extend a poor metaphor, he couldn’t fucking tell that this was a fastball rather than a curve until it had hit him straight in the face. How stupid he had been. 

He needed to clean. He stormed to his room, cleared out three of Erwin’s T-shirts that lay across the desk, untouched, and tossed them angrily in the waste basket. He grabbed the remains of the laundry in the room, including a pair of his black jeans, and nearly ran down the stairs to the basement, where the washer was kept. 

He emptied the hamper into the washer, and included what was in his arms as well. Then, without exchanging even a glance with Eren or Armin, he stormed back upstairs and grabbed his leather jacket. 

He would be okay, he would just buff the jacket clean, and he would be fine. Then, he would see what he should do. He didn’t allow himself to otherwise plan his cleaning schedule, though, because he had too much to do, and would enjoy the planning process too much before being disappointed at being unable to complete it. 

It was a half-hour and a completely new looking leather jacket later that Levi restored his breathing to normal. He still wanted to clean, but was willing to acknowledge that he had more important things to do. As he swept into his small kitchen, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone and dialed Petra’s number. He waited five rings before Petra picked up, her voice laced with trepidation and a touch of bitterness. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Petra. I--” She waited, and Levi continued, “I guess I’m sorry I asked you that. I lost control of myself.” 

“Levi,” she replied, her voice remarkably soft and forgiving, “I know I haven’t exactly told you, but I’ve hardly kept it a secret either. That me and Erwin are a couple, that is. Besides, he said that he told you a couple months ago, and that you were happy for us.”

“Erwin lied,” was Levi’s short reply, “But if you’ve been dating longer than a couple months, then--”

“What is it, Levi?”

“We’d been lovers, Petra. For four years. Secretly. I broke up with him a week ago.” He refused to let emotion take over his voice, but it was all he could do to stop his voice from cracking. 

“Look,” he said, “just come over now. We’ll talk.” 

Levi hung up. It was not four minutes later when Levi heard a knock at the door, which he thought was unusually quickly for Petra, considering how far away she lived. 

“I was already on my way when you called,” she explained as Levi opened the door. 

“I’m sorry you had to learn that about Erwin,” Petra said awkwardly, “and I’m sorry I dated him. I didn’t ever know he was cheating on you with me. I’m so sorry.” Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“I’d never hurt you like that on purpose. You’re one of my best friends, Levi.” 

Her apology betrayed her vulnerability, and Levi immediately understood that he could not be angry. He surprised even himself, though, when he initiated their embrace, and held the slight-framed woman close to him. They were the same height, but, for some reason, Levi always felt that Petra was much smaller. 

“I know,” said Levi, “ I wish I could have told you. I wish I did tell you that I was with Erwin, but I can’t change it. I thought that he wanted us to be a secret because he didn’t want people to know he was gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck he is, but I guess that wasn’t his concern.”

Petra looked at him sympathetically, and Levi invited Petra into the house. He felt wave of relief, as if a weight were lifted off his shoulders. Petra would help him, he would help Petra. They could get through this betrayal, and they could get out of the Wings. 

“God, I need a drink,” mused Levi aloud, “Do you want one?”

Petra smiled her thanks, and replied, “Mind if I make tea instead?”

“Yea, that would be great, actually. I’ll join you. I need to think straight, anyway, and bourbon doesn’t work well for that.” A smile ghosted on his lips. 

Petra shuffled into the kitchen, and Levi grabbed two mugs and put them on the counter. Petra set the kettle to boil, and the two examined Levi’s tea chest to make a selection. Levi was big on tea, he had nearly forty varieties, and he would have more if he had space. 

They selected Russian Caravan, a tea that is as potent as it is fragrant. 

As an afterthought, Levi selected two more mugs from his cupboard. 

“You have two of them in the basement?” inferred Petra. 

“Yea,” replied Levi. They moved on. 

“Are you leaving Erwin? I won’t blame you if you don’t, but you deserve better than him.” 

Petra’s eyes crinkled in worry. “It’s not that simple, anymore, Levi. I want to leave Erwin, and leave the Wings of Freedom, too. But--”

“But what?” asked Levi, more aggressively than he had intended. 

“I’m pregnant, Levi,” she said, and tears brimmed in her golden eyes against her will. 

“That’s shit,” replied Levi. “Are you going to keep it?”

Petra nodded bravely. “Yes. I’m only a month in, but I couldn’t-- you know.” 

“I’m not completely surprised. Let’s get out of the Wings of Freedom, together. Not just for you, not just for me, or for the kids in the basement, but for that kid in your stomach, too.”

Petra smiled gratefully, but looked concerned. “How, though, Levi? If we turn ourselves in, then we go to prison. And if I’m honest, I can’t really live with that. But then, if we just let the kids go, then we’ll have to run from Erwin, and Erwin will go on with the initial plan that he had before Hanji and Mike talked him out of it.” 

Levi nodded. “I have a strange suggestion. Let’s pour one more cup of tea, and I’ll bring up one of the brats. I have reasons to believe he might be able to help.”

“Wait--” said Petra, “How is that going to work?”

“You’ll see,” said Levi, cryptically as ever. Petra, despite her misgivings, agreed, and poured the cup of tea as Levi went downstairs. Petra watched the basement door for Levi to emerge, unsure of who Petra would see beside him. 

“Armin. Up. Now.” He did not explain, nor give reason for his interruption. Armin merely waited for Levi to cut the duct tape from around his legs. Armin remembered that Levi had switched to duct tape just a few days ago, from rope; rope took too much time and effort when Levi had to frequently tie and retie the knots. It was simpler for Levi to simply brandish his pocket knife and cut off the tape. 

Levi ignored Armin’s expression of fear, and ignore Eren’s wide eyes that silently asked Levi where he was taking Armin. 

“It’s alright, kid,” he muttered to Armin, helping him to his feet. “I just wanna talk.” And with that, he lead the wobbly legged Armin up the basement stairs and into the apartment. 

Petra smiled reassuringly at Armin as he came into the room, and Armin nodded a hesitant greeting, looking towards Levi to gauge his reaction. Petra, meanwhile, directed Armin to sit on the living room couch. She approached him cautiously at first, but kindly, and gave Levi a stern look when he protested her removal of the tape around Armin’s hands. 

She took Armin’s hands between her own, and rubbed feeling back into them. “Here,” she said, gesturing for Armin to take the tea that she held out to him, “have some. It’s still warm.”

Armin looked at her gratefully, fear still lingering in his eyes. 

“My name’s Petra,” she said, trying her best to cover the tears in her eyes that remained from her earlier confrontation. 

“I’m Armin,” he mumbled shyly, “but…” He trailed off, considering it probably in his best judgement not to continue that train of thought. He would find out soon enough why he was there, after all. 

“Listen, kid. Armin. I brought you up here ‘cause Petra and I fucked up. The fact that you and that Eren kid are here is proof enough of that. Petra and I want out of the Wings of Freedom--that’s the terrorist organization responsible for this whole situation; if you have any questions about it, we’ll explain after. Basically, if we let you go, Erwin kills us and possibly you. If we turn ourselves in, we go to jail, and Erwin does his best to kill us and possibly you.”

As Levi took a breath, Petra’s soft voice interrupted. Her words, however, were surprisingly bleak, and made Levi shudder: 

“How I see it, we have to find a way to dump this all on Erwin. Unless Erwin goes to jail for what we did, then we have to pay for it too.”

Despite his trepidation and vague sense of guilt, Levi nodded. He added, “Armin, you’re here because I can tell you’re smart. If you have any insight, tell us. And, I know that you don’t wanna trust us, but you don’t really have a choice.”

“I need information, then,” said Armin, “and preferably your word that you won’t beat up Eren--or me, for that matter--when he pisses you off.”

Levi gave a bored shrug, and pointedly ignored Petra’s glare. She raised her eyebrows and said, “We’ll talk, Levi.”

Armin hid a smile. “Anyway. How many people died in the explosion?”

“Four,” said Petra, glassy-eyed. “Four, and three major injuries. 

Levi and Petra avoided his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Armin told himself, “Mikasa’s okay, my close friends are okay.” He turned back to Levi and Petra, and spoke aloud. “Who else was kidnapped?”

“Uh...I believe it was a total of thirteen people,” said Petra, “Levi has you two, Hanji and Mike have three, Erwin has four, Reiner has two, Bertholt has two as well, I think.” 

“What are their names? The names of the people kidnapped.”

Levi got up abruptly. “We don’t know exactly. I have a list with all I know.” 

He went to his secret drawer, the one that hid his handgun, and retrieved the list. “Erwin wanted to limit my information,” he explained; “I really don’t have much.”

“Uhh, Levi?”

“What is it, Armin?”

“Did Erwin get his hands on anyone Asian?”

“Don’t think so,” said Levi. “I think I would remember. Erwin didn’t mention the description of any target as Asian.”

~x~  
Erwin  
4 names unknown 

Levi  
Armin, Eren (written in Levi’s writing)

Hanji & Mike  
3 names unknown

Reiner  
2 names unknown

Bertholt  
Mylius, Nac  
~x~

“Originally, the goal was twenty-five. But some targets were missed, and something went wrong. Still not sure what exactly went wrong; Erwin won’t say. But, that’s what information Petra and I have. We’re not center-ring; Erwin and Pixis and Hanji and Mike are the four main planners of this.”

“What’s your part in this, Petra?” asked Armin, his eyes sharp. 

“Well, I just do favors for Erwin, mostly. I send messages, act as a get-away car, store money, launder money, talk to politicians…” She trailed off. 

“She’s a social science major. One of Erwin’s best because she at least used to trust him. Believe it or not, he’s really easy to trust,” griped Levi. “Believe me, I would know.”

Petra nodded, and followed up: “Levi’s an engineer. Helped plan the placement of the bomb so people wouldn’t get hurt, just disoriented. Also helped Hanji make the explosive to start.” 

Levi shot daggers at her with his glare. 

“Levi,” she chastised, “if you really trust Armin, then he has to know this. We have to have him know what we’re up against.” 

There was a pause. 

“Speaking of which, there’s someone else that you’re going to be up against,” said Armin. “Her name is Mikasa Ackerman, and, long story short, she’ll find us.” 

Petra’s eyes widened. “Ackerman?”

Levi shot her a glance. She nodded and closed her mouth, but Armin had already guessed. 

“Is that your last name, Levi?”

“Tchh,” he replied. 

“I wonder if there’s a relation,” mused Armin. “Probably not, but still. That would be cool.” 

“You were talking about the Mikasa girl?” Levi attempted to redirect the conversation. 

“Yes. Mikasa. Mikasa is Eren’s adopted sister. And basically, if she can’t find Eren and me, she’s create enough chaos until she can unearth where we might be.” 

“Sounds like my kind of girl,” teased Levi. 

“You’re gay,” noted Petra, at the same time as Armin noted more coyly, “She wouldn’t be interested in you.” 

“Why,” smirked Levi, “She your girlfriend? That’s no guarantee she wouldn’t prefer me.” 

“Oh shut up,” said Petra, and turned to Armin. “Is she your girlfriend, though?” 

“No,” said Armin, trying not to look too disappointed. Levi smirked. 

Suddenly, though, Petra clutched her tea a little more strongly and stood up. “What if he finds me here?”

“He won’t come here,” said Levi darkly. 

“But what if he finds my apartment empty?”

“Say you went to see your father. If you believe that everything is normal, then you’ll act like it, too.”

“Good point. Okay,” she relaxed slightly. 

“Are you dating Erwin too?” asked Armin, “I thought that Levi…”

Levi growled. Petra shrugged. 

“It’s complicated,” they explained. 

“Does Erwin know that you’re pregnant?” asked Armin, trying to pretend that he wasn’t a little bit proud about having figured it out. 

“How do you know I’m pregnant? Am I showing that much?”

“No,” said Armin. Levi watched the boy carefully, scrutinizingly, looking for what he had noticed. 

“You’re not showing at all, don’t worry. I assume that means that you haven’t told Erwin yet, then.” 

Petra sighed softly: “I was afraid he’d leave me. Not that that’s a problem now, but… Seriously, though, how did you guess that I’m pregnant?”

“You’re putting your right hand over your stomach, protectively, and something happened in the last while that caused you to decide to get out of the Wings of Freedom. Probably, it’s been an idea that’s been in your head for a while, but future mothers--well, they’ve got more to lose. Besides, Levi’s looking at you all protective. Kinda like how Mikasa looks at Eren.”

“Tch,” replied Levi. Petra looked at him gratefully, and smiled softly. 

“You made a good judgement call in confiding in this kid, Levi,” decided Petra. 

Armin smiled a little bit, his eyes widening as if he were surprised and grateful for any kind of acknowledgement. 

“Any ideas, though?” asked Levi. 

“I’m working on something,” said Armin. “For now, I think we’re gonna need to keep Eren unaware of what’s going on--same with Erwin. The rest will come later. I need more time.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow new characters! Thanks for reading, guys. I really really enjoy getting comments and or likes, so thanks a lot for that also (and thanks to a certain reader of mine who has been reading it before I post and telling me that I need to update more often, haha)   
> <3

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she heard, just at the edge of her consciousness. Then a muffled grunt, and a string of curses. A cruel voice followed. 

“If you don’t tell me who you all are, I’ll make this very painful for you.” 

“I don’t doubt it, fuckface.” Ymir laughed. 

Christa nearly cried. How could Ymir stay so unruffled? Meanwhile, it was all that Christa could do to drag open her exhausted eyes and try to make herself focus on the events that transpired in front of her. 

Christa lay, her torso propped against a wall, with Sasha and Connie far to her right, crumpled on the floor in each others arms. She wondered vaguely if they were official yet, and would have smirked slightly had she not been reminded of her painful situation by a grunt that came from about a foot in front of Christa’s feet. 

A massive form had pulled Ymir to her feet, and held up her chin while he looked into her eyes. Christa shuddered. She had caught a glimpse of ice blue eyes. A strong jawbone. Taut skin dragged over prominent cheek bones. A thick line of eyebrow that nearly met in the middle. 

While Christa shivered, Ymir did not flinch. Christa could not have recalled a time when she was more scared for or more proud of her girlfriend. 

Christa tried to speak; tried to speak for Ymir, because her identity was not something worth getting beaten for. But a strip of duct tape prevented her, and she was unsettled to find that she was helpless--her hands were tied. 

“Tell me your name and age, fool,” said the man, his voice low and cold and, to Christa, plain scary. 

Ymir smirked. “My name’s Ymir.” She paused significantly before adding her insult: “Eyebrows. Need me to spell it, too?”

Christa could tell that the man lost his cool. His eyes flashed in an unbecoming way against his calculating face, and he didn’t hold back when he punched Ymir, aiming for the weakness of her solar plexis. 

Ymir collapsed inwards on herself, gasping for breath, and groaning in pain. She crumpled onto Christa’s legs. The man glared at her, and muttered, “Only Levi calls me that,” before he turned away and cracked his knuckles. 

Called, Erwin silently corrected himself. He had managed to fuck that up, too. 

Meanwhile, Christa had wrapped the end of her feet around Ymir’s shivering waist, and, expending great effort, drew Ymir towards herself. As she gained more leverage, Ymir began to crawl towards her, too, but the other girl’s legs and arms were both tied, which left her hobbled. 

Christa let a tear slip from her eye to see Ymir so helpless in front of her. She glanced up to check to see if they had an audience, and was relieved to see that the man had retreated away. Christa felt relief poignantly, and hummed a strange lullaby to Ymir as the latter rested a bloodied head on her lap. 

Ymir woke a few hours later. Christa was certain that Ymir had been exhausted, and Christa did not know why Ymir had not feigned sleep earlier to avoid the man’s beating. When Ymir did wake, though, her immediate reaction was to crawl off Christa’s lap--which Christa was thankful for, actually, because Ymir was almost a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier. Feeling returned to her leg, and Ymir smiled ruefully as she realized that Christa must have been in great discomfort. 

So Ymir instead sidled up to Christa’s side as best as she could, and spoke in quiet tones to Christa in her ear. And when Ymir waited for Christa to respond to her, Christa was glad that she had spent the majority of Ymir’s sleeping hours by trying to remove her duct tape gag. The result had been good: one actually can loosen it by licking the inside of it until it comes off completely. Needless to say, though, her tongue was sore. 

“Christa. You can’t let Eyebrows know who you are.” Ymir’s expression had turned sinister and certain. Christa’s eyes widened. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re basically America’s princess. You’re the daughter of the richest man in America, and I can’t think of any motive of this operation other than to kidnap the kids of rich people.”

“Do you think they’d ask for ransom?”

“I don’t know,” replied Ymir, her eyes still observant and her lips pulled into a frightening expression. “But there’s a possibility that this is the work of the Wings of Freedom.”

“What’s that?”

“Haven’t you read the news? Ugh, of course you haven’t,” said Ymir, almost smiling. “The Wings of Freedom is the liberty group. The terrorist group that’s dedicated to making a point about how rich people are equal to poor people in the end. They were the group that kidnapped that one rich kid and murdered him on video, while on the phone with the parents. Crazy shit.” 

“Then if they’ve done that, why haven’t they killed us already?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.” 

“I hope you’re wrong, Ymir. But if you’re right, then how is keeping my identity a secret going to help anything?”

“It means they won’t kill you until they know who you are. And if they think you’re a scholarship kid to the conservatory, then maybe you’ll be safe. They won’t kill a scholarship kid. At this point, I think we can assume that, if this is the Wings of Freedom, then Armin will be safe, Eren will end up dead, so will Mikasa, and so will Marco and Jean and you, if we’re not careful. That’s assuming we all got kidnapped.”

“But Ymir! You told the man who you are!” 

“I know,” said Ymir, “but I’m upper middle class. Besides, I think I piss off Eyebrows too much for him to get near enough to me to kill me,” she said, comforting Christa. 

But Ymir was wrong about that. It wasn’t ten minutes later when the man came back into the room, an occasion at which Ymir threw herself away from Christa. As he approached. She crawled back to where she had been before at Christa’s feet, and did her best to imply that Christa really had nothing to do with her. 

The man, though, was not particularly convinced, and noticed that Christa was awake. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, stepping over Ymir. Ymir wrapped her arms around his leg, and he kicked at her in annoyance. Christa looked towards Ymir, trying to think of what to say. 

“Listen, you fuck,” started Ymir. 

“I didn’t ask you,” said the man, kicking Ymir again. She was unswayed. 

“I said listen! Don’t fucking talk to Historia, okay? You wanna know something, you talk to me. You see what I mean?”

“Her name’s Historia?” 

“Yea. Historia Reiss. My little sister.” 

“So your names are Ymir and Historia Reiss?”  
Ymir nodded miserably. Christa remained staring at Ymir. 

“How is Ymir spelled?”

“Y-M-I-R,” said Ymir. 

“Good,” said the man. “That was not nearly as simple as it could have been, but good. Now, what are your two friends’ names?”

This time, Christa replied. “You should talk to them. I’ve seen them around school, but I don’t know their names.”

That was a lie. But Christa didn’t want Ymir and her to have to be responsible for them. Sasha and Connie could take care of themselves, and they had heard enough of Ymir and the man’s exchange to know that Christa was going by an alias. 

The man approached Sasha and Connie. “What are your names?” he asked simply. 

Connie could see no reason to lie, and so he supplied his. “Connie.” 

“Last name?” asked the man. 

“Springer. Connie Springer.” 

“And you?”

“Sasha Brous,” she replied. And with that, the man walked away, the piece of paper with four names on it fluttering in his right hand, a pen in his left. 

Ymir crawled back to Christa’s side.


	18. This is getting serious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longass chapter. sorry for the long wait  
> much love  
> bit of a cliff hanger  
> sorry not sorry  
> love you all

As she walked around the kitchen corner, Petra turned towards Armin. 

“We’ve met before,” she said simply, as if she didn’t think Armin would remember. Armin blushed a little, remembering his earlier conversation with Eren, and how Armin had thought that Eren liked her. To be fair, Eren had made it seem like that. 

“Yes.” 

“I used to babysit this kid called--God what what his name?”

“Eren,” supplied Armin. A strange haze passed over Petra’s face. 

“Like, Eren-in-the-basement-Eren?”

“You know Eren?” asked Levi. 

Petra looked at him, a little ashamed that she hadn’t remembered earlier. “Armin practically lived at his house. When you brought him up from the basement, all I could think was that I’d seen him somewhere before.” 

“Petra,” said Levi. 

“Yea?”

“How did you not realize that the boy you used to babysit was the same person Erwin has been specifically considering as a target for the past year? 

Petra blushed a little. “They had a nice house, but didn’t act super rich. I never made the connection. Besides, they told me that their last name was something different than Jaeger, I’m sure of it.” 

Levi raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Com’on Levi, I was thirteen. They just used me as a baby sitter because I lived next door for a bit, jeez.” 

Levi rolled his eyes. Armin interrupted. “Wait! Levi, you said that Eren was a specific target. Why exactly?”

“Erwin said his parents had done bad things. I don’t know if that’s true or not, so bear with me. He said that we were going to target the conservatory in the first place because there were two ultimate targets: Eren Jaeger and Christa Lenz. For whatever reason, we had never heard of Mikasa, although if we had I’m sure Erwin would have targeted her too.” 

“Explain more,” demanded Armin. “I still don’t understand why they were targets.” 

“Look,” finished Levi, “I know this sounds like a shitty justification, and believe me, it’s sounding like that a lot to me too. But--shit. Eren and Christa’s parents are really, really rich, and Erwin wants to make a statement about how rich kids shouldn’t have their lives handed to them on a silver platter. Erwin says he hates to kill, but killing is the only thing that gets things done.” 

Armin looked vaguely disgusted, but noticed that both Petra and Levi had the same look on their faces. 

“It sounds better when Erwin says it, doesn’t it,” said Petra. It was not a question, but her voice was soft. 

“I’m not judging you,” said Armin, “I’m past that. I just need as much information as I can get. So can I ask a couple more questions?”

“Tch. You just did.” Petra rolled her eyes at Levi and playfully swatted him over the head. Levi relented, and nodded to Armin, indicating that he should proceed. 

“What targets were missed?”

“Brat, I really don’t know much more than you do. Why, should I make a list of questions to ask Erwin?”

“That’s a good idea,” said Petra. “Really. Armin, write down what you want to know, and we’ll do the best we can to find out.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Armin. “What if you get caught?”

“We won’t,” said Levi. 

"I have to go," said Petra, looking at her phone. 

"Erwin?" Levi was proud that he could say the name without flinching. 

"There's a meeting. Today at five. He asked me to tell you but knowing him he'll call."

Levi nodded, and led Petra to the door. He closed it and locked it as she stepped outside. 

She wave as she got in her car; Levi watched her as she climbed in. 

He turned back to Armin a moment later. "Thank you. You make both of us feel like there's a way out."

And then his demeanor returned to normal. A smirk briefly played across his features. "What the hell was Petra like when she babysat you and Eren?"

Armin laughed uncomfortably. "I don't know. She's kinda the same. Looks like how Emma Watson did when she was young, I thought. Even then she was really pretty. Does she still have a strange obsession with The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe?"

Levi snickered. "Fortunately she seems to have gotten over that by the time I met her. Which was in college, by the way."

There was an awkward pause. 

"Back to the basement, kid." 

And per their arrangement, Armin stuck out his hands so that Levi could replace the duct tape. 

Even after Levi left, supplying them with pizza, Armin avoided Eren's gaze. He could not trust himself to keep a secret. 

Eren, of course, was torn, because he could not tell if his best friend has been harmed by his arguably dangerous crush. Armin hardly helped with the way he turned away with doleful eyes. 

******  
Levi received a call from Erwin later. He picked up his phone carefully, with both hands, as if either he or it, or the voice at the end of the line, would break. 

“Hello?”

“Levi.” Erwin’s voice was caramel and cold and smooth, and Levi’s breath caught awfully in his throat. He hated Erwin’s effect on him. 

“There’s a meeting at five today. Did Petra tell you?”

Levi grunted. He could barely bring himself to do more. 

“Can I come in?” asked Erwin. “I’m at the front door. I had to see you.” 

And Levi dropped the phone and ran to the door. He opened it before he could think, before he could make a judgement or consider the fact that Levi was plotting against Erwin. 

Erwin stooped his head slightly to enter through the front door. He took off his grey coat and hung it over his arm. Levi invited him in, numbly, and closed the door behind him. 

He tried to shake the ugly feeling of falling in love with someone all over again. He felt that Erwin’s presence was unwelcome, oppressive, uncomfortable. And he thought of Eren’s green blue eyes for a reason that Levi could not explain. 

Erwin waited in the living room, placing his briefcase--why had he taken that with him, anyway?--beside the couch, and watched Levi stand in the entrance to the living room awkwardly. 

“Tea?” offered Levi. 

Erwin noded, which was unusual. He liked coffee better. “Thanks.” 

Levi rinsed out a mug, and shivered to think that Erwin could have knocked on the door while Petra was here. 

And while he washed the same mug for the tenth time in a row, lost in thought in front of his sink, he felt Erwin wrap his strong hands around Levi’s shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Levi bit back a sarcastic reply. He wouldn’t have meant it, anyway. 

He turned off the tap, and put the mug safely, deliberately, on the kitchen counter. 

“Erwin, please,” he said, straining to keep his voice even, “just, step aside for a moment. Please. I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have, but I need to say this, and I can’t have you touching me.” 

Erwin stepped back, and nodded gravely. 

“Erwin Smith, there is a part of me that will always love you. But I’ve changed. I can’t do this relationship, secret or not. I know I ended it a week ago, and I stand by that. You’re bad for me. You make me want to kill, to drink, to do bad things to be with you. And I know that makes me a bad person, but--” 

Erwin looked at him as if he’d been slapped. “Levi, you’re not--Levi, no--”

Somehow Levi had convinced himself that Erwin would be angry, that Erwin would somehow make him take back his words. But he had forgotten. 

“Wait,” said Levi, “I’m not quite done. I have a question.” 

Erwin nodded, indicating he would answer. 

“How far do you intend to go for the Wings of Freedom?”

A change came over Erwin’s face, and Levi shuddered and stepped back involuntarily. Erwin noticed Levi’s reaction, and softened his expression. 

“I intend to carry out our plan.” He fished a paper from his pocket and continued, “We’ll ransom Ymir and Historia Reiss, Connie Springer and Sasha Brous. Those are the four I have,” Erwin explained. 

“Although it’s odd. Ymir and Historia really don’t look like sisters. Anyway, we’ll find out if we successfully got Christa Lenz and Eren Jaeger, and we’ll follow the plan. I’ll discuss it at the meeting.” 

Levi meant it when he said, “I’m loyal to you. I will help you with this operation. But I cannot help you kill.” 

“So be it,” said Erwin, “and now I’d like to say something, too. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Levi. He crossed his arms. 

“Listen. I’m thirty-one. And ten years ago, when I started to convert you to my cause, I had no idea what you would mean to me. You were just this kid--anyway, that’s not important. I believe that despicable actions are necessary to create a better world. A better world for the people that I love. Like you. But I don’t think I belong in such a world. You do.”

“I love you,” said Levi. 

“I know,” said Erwin. And both reacted as if Levi had asked him to leave instead of professing his love. 

Levi walked Erwin to the door, and said, “I’ll be at your place for the meeting. 

Erwin nodded with a half-smile. Levi returned inside, and switched off the forgotten kettle that had just began to boil. He poured himself some tea, and returned to the living room. He cursed himself for smiling at the gray coat that Erwin had left on Levi’s couch. 

It was three thirty in the evening, but it seemed to Levi that the sky had darkened. The day was final; the day was over, thus was the finality of the disaster. 

“It’s over,” he said aloud, almost surprising himself with the sound of his own voice. 

Or had it just begun?

He wanted to be alone, but was afraid of what he would do if he was alone. He considered going downstairs, but felt weak at the thought of seeing Eren. He never thought it would have been possible to come to the realization that he was completely in love with Erwin Smith, but still was captivated by those alluring green eyes. 

Levi felt strangely calm, analytical. As if he was finally sober after years of being drunk. 

And he had been drunk for the greater part of his adulthood. He supposed admitting it was progress, but it felt like pretty awful progress, if he was completely honest. Maybe he could stop drinking with Petra for her pregnancy. 

He thought of Erwin again. It was a bad habit of Levi's, but he did it anyway. 

How? How could Erwin cause him so much pain? And how could Levi let himself love such a man?

It didn't matter anymore. It was over. Levi had said goodbye instead of "I love you," or moreover, he has said "I love you," instead of goodbye. But Erwin had known what he had meant. 

He went downstairs, briefly, once he had found his calm, to pick up th pizza box he had supplied Armin and Eren with after his reunion with Petra. 

Eren had fallen asleep, a brooding frown on his face, so Levi went to Armin and spoke quietly. "It's four o'clock. I'm going to leave soon." 

Armin nodded. "Eren's asleep."

"I noticed, dumbass." Levi rolled his eyes and returned upstairs with the empty pizza box. He ran the water to the shower, undressed, and grabbed a towel from the cabinet. 

When the water finally warmed--it seemed like a while to Levi--he stepped into the stream of water and waited as his muscles relaxed. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, and decide that the bottom part of his undercut was in need of a trim. 

He let his mind wander a bit, and considered that he should leave at a quarter to five. He still had about forty minutes until that time, so he stood there in the shower for a few more minutes, reveling at how the water ran over his receptive skin. 

He exhaled the weight of tears that he had long since determined not to cry. He would not cry over Erwin Smith; he would not cry over the man who had saved his life at age 13 when he had tried to kill himself by overdosing on his mother's sleeping pills. 

Erwin had been 19 at the time, just walking by Levi's home...

He chose not to think about it. It was a story best left sleeping in the past. But one day, he resolved, Levi Ackerman would tell it. 

Just, not today. The water ran over his shoulders and chest, and he breathed deeply. His breaths were ragged and desperate, but he was okay. He had to betray the man that he still loved, but he was okay. 

He didn’t know why, then, that his thoughts wandered to Eren rather than Erwin. His eyes, the curvature of his lips--

Abruptly severing his train of thought, Levi cleaned up quickly and switched off the water. Steam surrounded him like a shroud. 

He dried off, slung his towel around his waist out of habit, and used a comb to part his hair. Down the middle. Like normal. 

He went out of the bathroom, grabbed his clothes, and threw them on with no further ado. 

The clock read four thirty three. He returned to the bathroom to blow dry his hair. He was very particular about his hair, and he believed it always looked better when blow dried and then gelled just a bit. 

He hurried. Although he did not want to be too early, he didn't want to be late, either. That would keep Erwin waiting. Levi usually was a few minutes late, but today it would have felt--

Just off. Slightly wrong. 

But now he was done. He exited the bathroom, promising himself that he would clean it after. 

He grabbed his wallet, keys, and, upon further thought, Erwin's gray coat, before he hurried out the front door, locking it securely behind him. 

He opened the car door, noting that he hadn't driven anywhere in a while--not since he'd broken up with Erwin the first time. He was fortunate that he'd filled up his car with gas instead of juice, because although gas was more expensive, it lasted while the alternate didn't. 

He really hoped Armin wouldn't cut him out of the plan and try something while he knew Petra and Levi were gone. They were allies, but Levi couldn't say he blame Armin if Armin tried to get away now. 

Needless to say, Levi did not know enough about Armin or Eren to understand why they would stay. 

Levi pressed the on button in his car. The engine purred to life. 

Fortunately, Erwin did not live far and Levi also hit green lights all the way through. Traffic was manageable. Erwin lived on the outskirts of New York, and had a small house. As he approached in his car, he noticed that Petra's motor cycle was already parked in front. 

He frowned a little, considering the risk that could come to the child, and reprimanded himself for not having offered to drive her. 

It was four minutes til five when he pulled up next to Petra's motorbike. He grabbed Erwin's coat and walked towards the front, locking the car as he went. 

Erwin opened the door before Levi had a chance to knock, and in the brief moment that he opened the door, Levi saw he was utterly calm. 

Erwin gestured inside. "Com'on in. Petra just got here. The others should be here soon too."

Levi didn’t like Erwin’s smile. It wasn’t as kind as Eren’s. (But since when had he been comparing?)

Petra walked back towards them, an obliging smile locked on her features. It scared Levi slightly. Petra had a look of jealousy, almost. 

"Levi! Hi!" She greeted him with a smile and a hug. Erwin led them to the living room to wait. Levi felt awkward, numb, and he wished that he had handed Erwin his jacket right away because now it was draped ungracefully over his knees. He didn’t let his discomfort show, though, until he saw what Petra did next. 

“Erwin,” she said, with an observant gleam in her eye, ”You left your coat at Levi’s place! Look,” she said, pointing at the coat draped over his knees. 

“Yes,” said Levi, before Petra could continue. He held out the coat dramatically to Erwin, and Erwin smiled. He reached towards Levi’s hand, and thanked him. 

Petra’s smile seemed oddly sheepish, as if she wasn’t playing at something. But Levi couldn’t understand what she was doing. 

Maybe it was just Levi’s imagination that turned Petra’s smile sinister. Levi supposed that it was very obviously Erwin’s coat; Levi was a foot shorter than Erwin and Levi vary rarely wore suits. Especially suits that matched Erwin’s pants. 

“When did you visit Levi, Erwin? The coat wasn’t there when I went over earlier today.”

Levi’s eyes flashed angrily, but Erwin remained calm. 

“I went over to Levi’s place just an hour ago. There was an issue I wanted to resolve, Petra.” His voice had dropped icily. “Now,” he said, peering outside, “Hanji is here, but you two stay after because there’s something we need to talk about.” 

Petra and Levi looked a little shaken as Erwin stood up to open the door for Hanji (and Mike, who had no doubt accompanied her.) Levi flashed Petra a loko. “What the hell are you doing?” he spat. Petra’s natural smile returned. 

“Remember my skills? Well, I’m using them. Don’t worry. Trust me.” 

“Great,” muttered Levi, “Everybody has a plan except me.” 

Erwin returned to the room, Hanji and Mike predictably in tow. 

“Pixis isn’t usually late, he should be here soon. I don’t know where the hell my nephew and Bertholt are, though.”

“Reiner?” asked Petra. 

Erwin nodded. 

Hanji squealed. “They’re so cute together. Are they ever going to get married?” she asked excitedly. She jumped a bit up and down, and Mike looked at her unimpressively. 

“Maybe they’ll get married once you do,” Levi deadpanned. Mike cringed. Hanji pretended not to notice. 

There was a knock at the door. The three remaining higher members of Wings of Freedom entered the door. 

“We ran into each other just outside,” Pixis said jovially. Reiner nodded beside him, waiting for the previous to enter the door. 

Pixis stood an average height, but seemed a dwarf compared to the two much younger men who followed him in the room. Reiner stood over six feet, blond haired and blue eyed, with a stocky build and an attitude. Bertholt, meanwhile, was a good four inches taller than Reiner, but was lanky. His hair was as dark as Reiner’s was blond, and he had a sheepish, laid-back expression that greatly contrasted with Reiner’s. 

It was this group of individuals that gathered in Erwin’s living room, united only by their involvement with an organization that was dedicated to destroying life, presumably to create a future. 

"So," began Erwin, "I need the names of each person you have, and I need contact numbers that they've given you. Petra will write it down," he said. 

Petra already had a pen and paper. "Let's start with Hanji and Mike.”

“We have three. Jean Kirchstein,” she spelled both parts of Jean’s name, “age 18.” Petra wrote down the information as Hanji said it. “Samuel Linke, age 17. And lastly, Daz Bodt, age 15.”

Petra nodded, and continued onto Erwin. 

Erwin cooperated, and said: “Historia Reiss, age 18. Ymir Reiss, age 19. Connie Springer, age 17. Sasha Braus, age 15.”

“Levi?” asked Petra. 

Levi cursed the fact that he had already given Erwin Eren’s name. He had no choice but to supply the information. 

“Eren Jaeger, age 18. Armin Artlert, age 18.”

Reiner spoke next. “Marlo Sand, age 19. Hitch Dreyse, age 16. Bertholt has the other two names.” 

Bertholt nodded, and said, “Mylius Zeramuski, age 17. Nac Tius, age 18.” 

“Good,” said Erwin. “Now, there’s a couple things that I need to explain, because although some of you didn’t know the original plan, you probably realize that this whole scenario was not completely intended.”

Levi felt his blood run cold. He wasn’t sure why, though, and he exchanged a furtive expression with Petra before stopping himself, realizing the danger that could follow if Erwin noticed their reliance on each other. 

“Most of you realize that the plan for the conservatory was carried out relatively effectively. However, that’s not actually true.”

Erwin paused for dramatic effect, and Levi had to resist rolling his eyes. Erwin was hard to get to know, but Levi was eternally amused once he had discovered Erwin’s surprising affinity for melodrama. 

“In fact, just minutes before the attack was scheduled, Pixis, who was waiting at the warehouse we had planned to keep the prisoners in, was forced to escape. Apparently, the police received a fake tip about a drug bust in that warehouse. We can’t account for who made the tip, but it cut off our plan.”

“Wait,” said Petra, who had not been a part of the warehouse plan, “how far from the city was this warehouse? I was supposed to drive to it, but Erwin told me about the change of plans only last minute.” 

“It’s an old warehouse just outside of Albany. It’s owned by Pixis’s cousin, so it can’t be directly traced to any of us.”

“Are the police still monitoring it?” asked Mike, ever the security professional. 

“Bert and I have been keeping an eye on it,” said Reiner, “and although there are no squads posted by it, there is increased police activity, so we had to abandon that facet of the plan.”

“When can I get those brats out of my chem lab?” asked Hanji, “It’s hard enough to keep them permanently drugged without causing them brain damage.” 

Erwin raised a warning brow. “We can’t have them die. Be careful.”

Hanji rolled her eyes. 

“Oi!” said Levi, “I don’t wanna clean up your fucking mess if you overdose them. I don’t give a shit how much of a hotshot chemist you are.”

“I thought you liked to clean,” said Hanji gleefully. 

“Not when that cleaning involves dissolving a fucking corpse, dumbass.” (What if he had to clean up Eren’s corpse?) Levi shuddered.   
Hanji giggled, and Mike clapped a hand on her shoulder. He murmured something indecipherable in her ear, and she nodded and kissed him lightly, her expression turning slightly serious. 

Levi made a gagging noise. 

“Okay,” said Erwin, eager to move on with the meeting. “I’d also like to ask how you all have been pacifying your charges, considering that Hanji brought that up so conveniently.”

Reiner volunteered gruffly, “Bert and I have an advantage because we share an apartment. Usually, one of us stays in the apartment at all times, and we keep them tied up and on a combination of sleeping pills. Don’t worry, the doses are safe.”

“How’d you get the prescription?” asked Erwin, “You didn’t go through me.”

“You seemed busy,” said Reiner, “so we asked my sister’s advice. I told her that Bert was having trouble sleeping, and that I needed advice. She seemed convinced.” 

“Reiner’s sister is a nurse,” explained Bertholt. “She’s unaware of the situation.” Petra nodded in understanding. It was complicated to have family members who didn’t know about their ‘freedom-fighting’ activities, but it was rare to have family involved. 

Erwin was lucky, actually. Practically all his friends and family were involved, including two of his past lovers, his nephew, and a few college acquaintances. 

Mike explained on behalf Hanji and himself. “Hanji has administered drugs to our three charges; it’s the simplest way of controlling behavior. They’ve responded well to the drugs, but we’re also keeping them restrained in the back room of Hanji’s most remote lab.” 

Erwin nodded. “That leaves Levi and myself. Levi?”

“I haven’t had much trouble with them so far, but they’re well restrained in the basement of my condo. Although I haven’t given them any drugs--” 

Eren. Eren. Eren. The name didn’t feel real, but he rolled it over in his mind, and--

He had hesitated just long enough to make Erwin ask for a follow up. 

“But?” asked Erwin. 

“I just gave them a bit of bourbon,” smirked Levi. Erwin chuckled, and Levi realized his ploy had worked. Act natural. And Levi naturally was full of slightly distasteful half-truths. 

Even Petra cracked a smile. 

“As for myself,” explained Erwin, “I’ve favored a technique similar to Levi’s. I have four of them in my downstairs room, which is a little cramped. Realistically, Levi has the best set up for this sort of thing, but he refused to take more than two.” 

As if Levi could handle more than two Eren’s. 

Levi shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s not dwell too long on unimportant things, Erwin. You said that there were a few things you wanted to mention.” 

“Yes, in fact. The warehouse tip wasn’t actually the only thing that went wrong. Levi and Hanji had engineered the bomb to go off in an empty hall, but we miscalculated.” 

Levi cringed at Erwin’s blatant emphasis on their shared responsibility: we. 

“Four deaths occurred,” said Erwin, “which is four too many. More people were injured, also, including three teachers and a few other students. It was never the intention of the Wings of Freedom to cause unnecessary deaths. In fact, as most of you realize, we only mean to make an example of two people.”

“Cut the shit, Erwin,” said Levi. “I wanna explain.” He looked to Erwin nearly unconsciously, and Erwin nodded to him. 

“I had a plan to blow up the special audition hall. Rod Lenz, oil tycoon of America, had payed for that special audition hall just so his precious daughter’s school could be some prestigious thing. I don’t really know, nor do I really give a shit. Long story short, that audition hall was only in use for the mid-year test to determine the order of the concert seats, so I thought it would be safe on the date we’d planned for. It wasn’t. The day we’d chosen happened to be the day of the audition, and that’s why the four people got killed.” 

Levi had managed to say all this without betraying physically too much of the anguish he was feeling. Petra gave him a sympathetic look, which made him feel worse and guiltier. He wished he hadn’t promised himself not to drink. 

But he didn’t deserve to drink. He could have killed Eren, or someone Eren cared about. That was right, he couldn’t drink anymore. 

An eerie silence reigned over the small living room. Everyone looked to Levi. 

“And when Erwin says that we’re gonna make an example of two people,” said Levi, his voice soft and dangerous, “he means we’re gonna kill them as publicly as possible.” 

Eren. Eren. Eren. Kill Eren as publicly as possible. Levi thought it was quite possible that he was drunk--his thoughts were a far cry from his calm earlier. He was scared, he was thinking of the boy with ocean eyes, and he wanted to write--

Petra stood up. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be right back. 

Levi could bring himself to look at her. She disappeared down the hall and entered the bathroom, delicately closing the door behind her and turning on the light/fan combination. Levi would have been concerned for her given her secret pregnancy, but he was too busy wallowing in guilt. 

“God I need a drink,” he muttered. Nobody made a move. 

When Petra came back a few minutes later, her hair was slightly mussed and she looked vaguely ill. Levi snapped out of his stupor, and the rest of the group followed suit. As soon as Petra sat down, Erwin continued on with his agendas. 

“Anyway, I wanted to point out the fact that Rod Lenz has not confirmed or denied that his daughter was kidnapped. We have no physical description of her because the family is private, but this complicates things. Out of all the people that we’ve kidnapped, it seems we missed our number one target. Christa Lenz is--” 

Erwin furrowed his brow. 

“Unless--Levi, come with me really quickly.” 

Mike and Hanji exchanged a look, and Mike asked, “Erwin, what’s going on?”

“I want Levi to tell me if he thinks that Ymir and Historia Reiss look anything like sisters. Come downstairs.” 

Levi blinked preemptively, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the half-light. Erwin, though, flicked on the lights before his eyes had to complete the task. 

“Ymir,” grunted Erwin, his face a mask of calm anger. 

“Hey Eyebrows,” the girl smirked, “you brought a friend.” An unexplainable expression crossed Erwin’s face. 

“Ooh, interesting,” said Ymir, “your stance says ‘friend,’ but that precious little expression says ‘fuck buddy.’”

Erwin approached Ymir and kicked her hard in the ribs. Levi would have laughed, but the girl’s jokes had been at his expense. 

It was then that Levi noticed the pale, small-framed girl that gathered Ymir in her bound arms, murmuring her name softly. Tears glistened in her eyes. 

They were definitely not sisters, thought Levi. 

“They’re sisters,” said Levi. “They act all protective of each other. Shit that siblings do.” 

And he turned his back on the pair, and went upstairs. Erwin followed without comment. 

“I like the girl’s style,” said Levi. “She shows exquisite taste in nicknames.” Erwin rolled his eyes. 

They rejoined their compatriots. 

Levi smirked, explaining their departure. “Erwin just felt the need to drag me out and identify the behavior of sisters. To see if they act like siblings and crap.” 

Petra nodded absentmindedly. Erwin remained looking unconvinced at whatever had just transpired, and Levi made a note of it. His ploy hadn’t worked, almost certainly, but he had been consumed by the look of love he had seen on both Ymir’s and--he assumed--Christa’s, faces. 

But if he was the only one who knew Christa Lenz’s identity, her secret was safe. Problem was, if he had figured it out, it was indubitably true that Erwin had too. 

“Okay,” said Erwin, yet again, “D-Day is in one week. I want each of you to ask your prisoners for a contact, and to request feasible ransom. Assume that the police will track your calls. Follow standard procedure.”

“I.e., scare the living shit out of them,” said Levi. 

Hanji smiled creepily. Even Mike indulged a small smile. 

“Yessir,” said Petra, slightly sarcastically. 

Hanji interrupted. “I thought the purpose of this meeting was to talk about the information breach.” 

Erwin nodded, “I can’t believe I almost forgot. Annie is becoming suspicious. She is in possession of my personal cellphone, and she contacted Hanji. She suspected Hanji’s involvement in the event, and thus possibly mine.”

“How did she get your fucking cellphone?” asked Levi. “And is anyone else at risk?”

“She stole it from me at the hospital. And then quit. So I don’t know who else is at risk. Just be doubly careful. I doubt she’s working with anyone, though.”

Reiner interrupted. “Why didn’t you discuss this with me? I’d be happy to talk to her.”

“Reiner, I understand that she’s your sister; she’s my niece, believe me, I understand. But you would have talked to her, perhaps unwisely, and potentially revealed your involvement with the Wings of Freedom. And we can’t risk that happening.” 

“Keep us updated,” said Levi.

 

“Yes,” said Erwin. “Now, meeting adjourned; please get out.” 

Levi rose lazily to leave until he felt Erwin’s death glare on him. Right. Erwin had wanted to talk to him and Petra. He felt certain that this would go nowhere.


	19. Chapter 19

Armin’s mind churned almost as rapidly as his stomach. His solution would work, but it made him feel ill. He was glad that Eren was not awake when he wretched, doubling over on the floor. 

He coughed a couple times, and tried to wipe his mouth on the side of his shirt the best he could with his hands tied. He vaguely thought of how disgusted Levi would be, but Armin hardly had a choice. With that thought, Armin rolled over onto his back and tried to stretch out his cramped shoulders. It didn’t work. 

******  
Erwin waited with Petra and Levi, not saying a word until Pixis, Reiner, Bertholt, Hanji, and Mike had driven away. 

Petra looked concernedly at Erwin, and felt somewhat disappointed to find Erwin’s eyes completely focused on Levi. 

Levi looked almost uncertain, she noticed. His frown had softened, and the furrow between his eyes was relaxed upwards. 

Had Petra been less aware of Levi’s personality, she might have assumed it was resentment plastered on Levi’s unnaturally pale face. But Petra knew better. In the terrifying silence of the room, Petra was certain that Levi was very much still in love with Erwin Smith. 

Petra looked down at her stomach, thinking of her unborn child. One day, she would have to explain to him or her why they had no father. 

The answer? “My sweet child, your father never loved me.”

Levi looked at her abruptly, as if he had read her thoughts. 

“What is it that you wanted to say, Erwin?” His voice was tired, no longer sarcastic like it had been earlier. 

“Petra,” Erwin began, “I met Levi Ackerman when I was nineteen years old. How we met is not my story to tell--it’s Levi’s, but that’s not really the point. But, uhh, we started dating almost four years ago.”

“As of December 24th,” added Levi. 

Petra sculpted her face to look as if she did not quite understand. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I entered a relationship with you--while…”

Erwin’s face was contorted in a grimace. Levi almost smiled, and resolved not to finish was Erwin was trying to say. That would be too easy. Unfortunately, though, Petra interrupted. 

“I didn’t love you,” she murmurred. “But I could have.” 

Erwin looked legitimately anguished. 

Petra berated herself for letting a tear slip out of her eye. Erwin wasn’t worth crying over. Erwin had been a mistake. Any second choice is a mistake, she realized. But she realized too late. 

Levi lokoed surprised, as if it was impossible for anyone else to have entertained loving Erwin Smith. 

Reality hit a little hard. Erwin’s relationship with Petra had been more than casual sex. And that hurt, as if he had been promised a kiss and was instead run over by a massive bus. 

“Do you regret it?” he asked Erwin, his eyes flaming. (Do you regret fucking me, or her? Do you regret fucking either of us over?)

“Yes,” said Erwin simply, with less hesitation than Levi had expected. 

“Why?” said Pera flatly. She had been under the impression that Erwin was a man who lived without regrets. 

“It’s simple,” said Erwin, “I didn’t think I’d care; you were an easy way to assure my family that I wasn’t gay. And I needed something from you, I guess. But I realized after that you deserved more than being my second choice.”

Petra laughed a little. “Don’t worry,” she said cryptically,” you were my second choice too.”

Erwin smiled at her pityingly, and Levi felt out of place. Who the fuck cared about second choices when it was over and done?

(When Levi told Armin about this, later, he commented quietly that it’s easy not to care about second choices when you’re everybody’s first. Levi still wasn’t sure what that meant, completely, because Levi was hardly everybody’s first choice.)

“I’m sorry, to both of you,” continued Erwin. 

“We both knew.” Levi shrugged. “As of today. I’m kind of annoyed, actually, but this was a good way for Petra and I to reunite. We’d been falling out of touch, and it was a good thing I verbally assaulted her on the phone so she came over.”

Erwin looked vaguely betrayed, which struck Levi as funny. 

“You don’t always get to set the terms of the truth,” soothed Petra. From anyone else, that comment would have sounded mocking, but from her it sounded genuinely comforting. 

Erwin nodded and stood up. “Anyone want a drink? I have your favorite bourbon, Levi.” 

He moved to the kitchen and grabbed three glasses. 

Petra hesitated, unsure of how to refuse unsuspiciously. 

“I for one, am fine,” said Levi, “I just sobered up. Don’t want to have to call a cab home.”

“Not that that’s stopped you before. What about you, Petra?”

“No, thanks. If Levi’s not going to, I have no social obligation,” she joked. “Besides, I’m feeling a bit sick, actually.”

Erwin nodded. “I’m still getting a drink.”

He unscrewed the top of his bottle of spiced rum, and poured himself almost three ounces in a tall glass. He rummaged in the refrigerator and pulled out a coke, which he snapped open and added to the glass. 

“Why do you insist on ruining the taste of perfectly good rum?” asked Levi. 

“This rum is pretty lousy, if I’m honest,” laughed Erwin. Levi rolled his eyes. 

Petra’s phone buzzed conspicuously. She checked in nonchalantly, and mentioned, “It’s my dad. I told him I’d be at his place tonight for a late dinner, so I’ll be going now.”

Erwin nodded, and added awkwardly, “Send him my regards.” 

Levi smiled at Petra, the slight curvature of his mouth barely perceptible, but nonetheless encouraging. 

“Tell him hello for me, too,” said Levi. Levi had an undenied soft spot for Petra’s seventy year old retired father. He had, on multiple occasions, included Levi in family functions back when Levi was an undergraduate in college. All it had taken was an offhand comment of Levi’s that mentioned being disowned by his family, and Petra’s father had barely stopped short of adopting him. 

Petra nodded and left. As she left, Levi noticed that the atmosphere changed, somewhat like how a room becomes dimmer and colder when the last of a fireplace’s coals die out. 

Erwin’s face still smiled, but it betrayed no warmth. 

“Levi, I know I should have told you without Petra there, but--”

“I get it,” said Levi flatly, “after all this and what we’ve been through, you were scared. You were gonna tell me when you came over earlier, I’m sure, but you copped out.”

Erwin clenched his teeth angrily--more directed at himself, than Levi, and opened his mouth as if to speak. 

Levi’s voice softened at Erwin’s action. “I won’t. Not today, I won’t fight.” 

Erwin silently nodded his thank you. 

“What the hell were you talking about with second choices, though?”

“Don’t be naive, Levi. It doesn’t suit you,” replied Erwin, a little bit too arrogantly and mysteriously for Levi’s liking. 

Levi opened and closed his mouth in rapid succession. 

“I suppose you want to know why I did it,” stated Erwin. 

Levi shook his head, but it was a lie, and Erwin knew it. Otherwise, he made no movement or response, and Erwin sipped his drink, preparing to speak. 

“I don’t let myself get drunk around you. Ever. Because I think it’s bad practice,” he started, “but this night, I was hideously drunk. It was a few months ago, and I was looking for a solution to a problem that I can’t even remember now. I needed someone to talk to a contact that already knew who I was, I think. Anyway, the barman saw me drunk, and didn’t want to talk to me because of my size. Petra came in the bar and recognized me, so he asked Petra to take me home. The drive back to her apartment was pretty uneventful, but I remember thinking she was gorgeous, and perfect, and definitely could solve my problem. I don’t even remember what happened next, but I stayed at her apartment that night. To be honest, I didn’t even think about you.” 

Erwin paused. “I don’t really want to know more,” said Levi, “and I hardly feel the need to be your shoulder to cry on if you’re just telling me this to make yourself feel better. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I didn’t break up with you because of Petra.”

“I know,” said Erwin. 

“I’m going to write a story about you,” said Levi. “Starting with how we met.”

“Then that’s not really about me,” replied Erwin. “Besides, you can’t help yourself. You would make it about us even if you never included your own name.”

Levi shrugged, and tapped his foot impatiently. 

“Same thing, really,” he said. “I don’t have a past without you in it.”

“But you sure as hell will have a future,” finished Erwin, “which I envy you for. I can’t get away from me, but you can. So leave.”

Despite Levi’s disgust at Erwin’s last-ditch attempt at a guilt trip, he agreed noncomitally and left without further ado. He cursed himself again, as he walked out the front step, for forgetting to give Petra a ride in his car rather than letting her drive home in her motorcycle. But, there was nothing he could do now. 

He felt ill at how fast he was driving away from Erwin’s house, even though it was less than thirty miles an hour. It wasn’t just that, though. He was moving too fast away from Erwin’s life, from Erwin’s love. 

He tried to move on. He really did. He’d been trying to move on for the last few months of their relationship. But now that he was partially successful, he felt undefined, purposeless. Also, empty and a little ill. 

It’s so much easier to define oneself based on one’s love for another. 

Traffic was heavy. It was not until seven thirty until he got home, unlocking the front door and momentarily revelling in the darkness that greeted him. 

No sun-touched hair and smile was there at the door. He had left that behind in a house that he knew almost as well as he knew his own. 

He flicked on the kitchen light. Time to make himself dinner, but he should check on Armin and Eren first. Always good to make sure that they didn’t run off; they were kind of necessary for his and Petra’s survival. 

And he marked Erwin’s words about sending out the ransom notices within the weekend. Today was a Friday night; he would question Eren and Armin for a contact number, and then he could take pictures with a current newspaper as proof--

At least, that was how they always did it in the movies. Levi rolled his eyes at himself, and walked down the stairs. 

Both boys were awake when he got there, and the room smelled like vomit. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, but acknowledged the fact that his obsessive cleanliness was not the most important fact of the situation. 

He turned on the light slowly to warn them of his presence. For a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he spoke near to a whisper. 

“Hey… kid,” he said, directing his attention to Eren, “What happened?”

Eren looked up at Levi, his green-blue eyes wide with apprehension. “Armin’s sick. And he won’t talk to me, he keeps crying. I think it happened again” 

Armin was not responsive to Levi’s presence; he was curled in the fetal position as far away from Eren has he had managed to get. Levi sighed, and approached Armin, who flinched visibly when Levi put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Kid,” he murmured, “kid. It’s okay.” Armin sobbed deeply, trying to get enough air while still crying. He looked up mournfully at Levi, and Levi noticed he was shivering. 

“Let’s get you up, Armin,” Levi said, unwrapping the duct tape that restricted his movement. . 

“Eren, I’m gonna need your help, okay? If you run away, I will fuck you up. But you won’t run away, because Armin fucking needs you right now, okay?” 

Eren nodded, and put out his hands for Levi to un-tape. That was quickly done, and then the two surrounded Armin. 

“I think he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had one for almost five years, but--”

Levi cursed under his breath. “He needs space, but if we give it to him, he might hurt himself. Do you think we can help him upstairs, to the bed?”

Eren nodded tersely, and said, “Just a sec.” He directed his attention to Armin, looking into his eyes just a few centimeters from his face. “Armin. Armin. Look at me.”

The blond boy tried to follow Eren’s instructions, and his eyes focused on Eren. However, he was still breathing way too fast, almost hyperventilating, and his skin was sticky with sweat. 

“Armin, we’re going to go upstairs, okay? You gotta help me.” 

Armin nodded dolefully, and struggled to balance on his feet. Eren grabbed his arm protectively, and Levi felt a stab of gratitude towards the intensity in Eren’s eyes. He was completely focused, completely in control, of his actions, and he wasn’t going to let Armin fall. 

Levi grabbed Armin’s other arm as gently as he could muster, but Armin shrank away from him. He exchanged a nod with Eren, released Armin’s arm, and instead made sure that the door to the upper level was open. 

The first stairs leading to the upper level were challenging, and Armin nearly fell twice. Levi was glad that the light was on, but dim, because it allowed Armin to hide in the darkness while Eren and Levi could still see in order to lead Armin up the stairs. 

After an eternity, they were successful in helping Armin up the stairs, although Levi was a touch disappointed that he couldn’t have helped. He felt better, though, once Armin was laid out as comfortably as possible on Levi’s bed. (He would wash the comforter later, though, that was for sure.”

Armin’s breathing, too, had calmed, but he still murmured frantically and was lapsing into a chill. 

Eren explained, on an off moment, that Armin had suffered from frequent panic attacks as a young child. The problem hadn’t surfaced, though, since they were thirteen. That occasion had been the result of a particularly harrowing argument with Eren, after which Eren felt awful and helped Armin through his panic attack. 

Eren had promised not to let him go through another attack alone, and the problem had disappeared into a figment of both of their memories. 

After perhaps a half hour, Armin lapsed into a fitful sleep. Eren and Levi sat near the bed, exhausted but not willing to sleep. 

“Thank you,” said Eren softly. 

“For what?” asked Levi. 

“For being human. For untying me and making sure I didn’t break my promise to Armin. For helping Armin, and for letting me help Armin.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” said Levi. “I’m a bad person.”

“I think you’re wrong,” said Eren. “Even if you think that. I think you’re a good person who’s done bad things for the sake of love. But if you’ve done bad things for the sake of love, you can do good things, too.” 

“That’s a really roundabout way of saying that I’m a piece of shit who has the option to change.”

Eren shrugged. “It’s a matter of perspective. Armin explained this to me, once, a long time ago, and I think he can explain it better than me. But, you’re a good person to me because you did good things for me. But to the parents of the kids who died in that attack--you’re as bad as they come.”

Levi shook his head, disgusted. “I--”

“Levi, I’ll be honest with you.” Eren paused for dramatic effect, but stopped when Levi rolled his eyes. 

“What?” asked Eren, confused. 

“Someone I used to know would do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pause, for dramatic effect. Goddammit, Erwin is so full of himself.”

“What’s wrong with pausing for dramatic effect?” asked Eren. 

“Tchh. Absolutely nothing,” said Levi, crossing his arms over his chest hostily. 

“As I was saying,” continued Eren, “You’ll always have to live with the fact that you sorta directly caused the death of four kids. But there are things you can do to make up for it.”

Levi frowned a little deeper than he had been before. “I don’t think there’s a whole lot someone like me can do to atone for what they’ve done, and what I’m planning to do.”

“Oh,” said Eren. “Are you going to kill me?”

Levi looked at him, trying to ignore the shock he felt at how calmly Eren asked. “Not if I can help it,” he answered truthfully. 

“Good,” said Eren. “I don’t want to die, so good.” 

Levi thought that Eren had a face that knew what it was like to want to die. Eren’s next comment proved him right. 

“I used to want to die. If this had happened earlier, I probably would have thanked you. But I just started to turn my life around. It’s funny how things like that happen.”

Levi nodded sympathetically. “I understand how that feels. All I can think about right now is how much I want a drink, but I promised myself not to drink.” 

“As of when?”

“Today, actually. A friend of mine is pregnant, and I figured it would give me a reason to stop drinking.” 

“Who’s the friend?” asked Eren, “Is it the woman who came over earlier?”

“How do you know it was a woman?” asked Levi, “But yea, it was her. Petra.”

“I heard your voices,” responded Eren. “Petra? Like...Petra Ral?” he asked. 

“Yes, your old babysitter,” said Levi, uninterestedly. “I had this discussion with your friend here.”

“She’s pregnant?” asked Eren, amazement in his eyes. “Is she even in a relationship? She always said she wanted to wait until marriage and crap…”

“She was in a relationship. Not today, though,” said Levi bitterly. “She might even have it worse than me.”

“Erwin…?”

Levi gave no indication that Eren’s guess was correct. Instead, they both directed their gazes towards Armin, who had shifted on the bed. His tense bright features had relaxed into a more calm demeanor; sleep had served him well. Eren put a comforting hand on Armin’s shoulder, and Armin moved towards Eren’s hand. 

What was that sensation of bitterness that raged in his head, almost coming out his ears?

Right. Jealousy. Levi scoffed at himself, and Eren looked over at him, asking a silent question with his expressive eyes. Levi avoided Eren’s gaze, instead choosing to lock his eyes on the red neon light of his alarm clock. 

Ten twenty-six p.m.

“By the way, Eren,” said Levi, remembering Erwin’s requirement to send out a ransom message, “I need a contact number for a member of your family. I’ll talk to Armin, too, once he wakes up, but I thought I’d ask if you have any memorized.” 

“I doubt my sister has her phone,” said Eren, frowning in concern, “because she had it the day of the explosion. God, I hope she’s okay.”

“She is,” Levi supplied. “I know she’s okay.”

“Thank you,” said Eren. “I believe I have my mother’s number memorized, but I’d prefer if you spoke to Mikasa if you’re looking for a ransom or anything like that.” 

“Just give me your mother’s number today. I’ll call her tomorrow, ask to speak to Mikasa, get a number for her. Should be easy.”

“Okay,” said Eren. “I suppose you’re going to lock me in the basement again, now.”

“I wasn’t going to,” said Levi, surprising himself, “But I guess I should. So I will.” 

Eren went down the stairs of his own accord. Levi didn’t bother tying his hands; he just locked the basement door and collapsed onto the couch, not even considering the possibility that either boy would try to run without the other.


	20. White Lines

Ymir felt powerless, and she hated it. Erwin and the short man that Erwin had brought with him had long ago left, and she could hear Erwin pacing outside the door, almost certainly alone. If she could have guessed, she would have said that it was in the middle of the night. 

Christa was beside her, lying limply as if the life was drained out of her limbs. Her eyes were unblinking, too. Ymir hurt everywhere, but she pushed it aside because of how Christa’s eyes looked. She recognized that look in Christa’s eyes; she recognized it from tearful nights from an eternity ago. 

“Christa,” Ymir murmured softly, and Christa started dramatically. Her pale blue eyes were large and more clear than normal, brimming with tears. Ymir guessed that was a side effect of fear, and, she was nearly certain, guilt. 

As soon as Christa was startled out of her trance, she spoke. “I’m so sorry Ymir. I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t, and I haven’t for so long--”

“Shh,” said Ymir softly. “Where?”

They both knew well the misery in Christa’s eyes, the misery that had been planted there since her mother had died and her father had plunged himself into his work. 

The misery that was Ymir’s greatest enemy. The misery that made her skin crawl when Christa had first shown her the careful lines drawn on her hip in long-ago taken blood. 

White scars. Terrifyingly precise, white scars, that lined up parallel on her hip. 

Christa sobbed in response to Ymir’s question. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ymir shifted closer to the younger girl, and looked her in the eyes. “Stop thinking,” she said, “And breathe.”

“I can’t do it alone. Please help me.” Ymir saw that Christa was terrified. That was hardly surprising, but it scared Ymir to see that Christa was more afraid of herself than she was of anything else. 

“Christa,” said Ymir, and she leaned over the smaller girl and kissed her chastely on the lips. She drew back after a moment, still hovering over Christa and steadying her with her eyes. 

“Christa.” Christa drew in a deep breath. “Christa, can you show me where?”

Christa bit her lip, and nodded, slowly pulling forward her bound arms. Immediately, Ymir realized that Christa had rubbed the outside of her left arm raw against a barely protruding and heartbreakingly useless crew on the wall. Bits of splinters and the tracks of a shallow cut marked her forearm, and Ymir sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” said Christa immediately. Her small arms and legs shook. 

Ymir shook her head, saying, “Don’t apologize to me.”

“But I should. Because it hurts you more than it hurts me.”

Ymir dismissed that comment, instead asking, “Do you like the pain, Christa?”

Christa shook her head quickly. “It just feels right. Like I’m letting my pain seep out with little dots of blood. Like my skin is keeping in my tension, and breaking it just a little is letting it go. But it builds right back up after. It doesn’t get better.” 

Christa began to cry again. 

“Well,” deliberated Ymir, “that means you’re not masochist, which is good. Because if you were masochist, I wouldn’t know how to tell you to stop liking it.”

Christa looked confused, but she had calmed down. Ymir continued, “But I’m not a fucking masochist either. I love you because I chose you, and I chose you because you make me feel fucking good. You make me feel like this shitty world is actually pretty perfect.” 

Christa opened her mouth to speak. 

“But I’d rather you rub my wrists raw on the corner of the wall than if you rub your own. And don’t you dare apologize, you fucking, beautiful, disaster,” said Ymir. And Ymir kissed her again, more deeply. 

“Com’on,” said Ymir, pulling out of the kiss. “We’re switching places. And I don’t mean with that kiss, either.”

Christa nodded numbly, and shuffled around Ymir so Ymir was up against the wall where Christa had been. As soon as they were still, Christa put her head on Ymir’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

Ymir nodded, and considered her next words carefully. 

“I would do anything to make your demons go away. If I could steal away your internal and external scars, I’d do that too. But I can’t. I could threaten that everytime you hurt yourself, I would make a scar just a bit bigger than yours on my skin. I would do that, if I thought it would help. But it won’t. Because I don’t want you to hurt anymore than necessary. Just, I want you to know that you are the most beautiful thing to ever have happened to me, and so, please, please: let me protect you.”

Ymir took a breath of air, “Let me protect you,” she repeated, “from Eyebrows--” (she cracked a smile at her own nickname for their captor), “and from anyone else who wants to hurt you, including yourself.” 

“Ymir Reiss,” began Christa, “I am hopelessly in love with you.” 

And they lapsed into a peaceful silence, disturbed only by the footsteps of Erwin’s restless pace outside the closet. 

Connie and Sasha had remained silent, their eyes peering into the half light, during Christa’s episode, and Ymir appreciated their silence. She showed it, then, giving them a rare and small smile. 

Sasha returned the smile sympathetically, realizing that she didn’t understand half of what Christa had been going through. However, she endeavored not to judge things too hastily. People did odd things under stress. 

And boredom, actually. Once the terror wore off, it was achingly boring and tense. She was happy that Connie was there; Connie was strong, and so delightful to annoy. But even that got tiresome in the small space, and so the couple had resorted to collapsing onto each other, taking turns sleeping, and, when they had the will, telling funny stories. 

Sasha once, though, out of boredom, had tried to bite her own hand. She had been curious if she was capable. Connie had stopped her, and demanded an explanation, which she had been happy to give. 

Once, she had been playing truth or dare with Eren, Jean, Marco, Mikasa, Armin, and a couple others, when Jean had given Eren a dare: kiss his current crush, on the lips. 

Needless to say, Eren declared loudly that he had no such crush. Jean had smirked, saying he was a coward and a fool. 

Eren denied it, of course, and Jean called him a liar; things escalated, but then Jean had another briliant idea. 

“Prove it,” he said, “prove you’re not a coward.” 

Eren wasn’t sure how, and Jean suggested that he bite his hand until it bled. Eren did, and he wouldn’t stop. Not only did it bleed, but it very much freaked out everyone in the circle. Although it had been years ago, any suggestion of playing truth or dare had been shut down quickly. 

No matter how hungry Sasha was, she wouldn’t bite her hand. She wondered a bit at Eren’s sanity, anyway. 

But Connie’s concerns had been assuaged, and they had collapsed into silence. 

But the silence that they were sitting in, now, was hardly comfortable. Learning Christa’s secret felt like a dreadful intrusion, and Sasha wished she hadn’t heard. 

The door creaked open, the sound of Erwin’s shoes echoing against the walls. Christa involuntarily clenched Ymir’s arm, which Erwin duly noted. 

“Christa Lenz?” asked Erwin. 

Christa made sure to make her face as expressionless as possible; to not respond to the name that was her own. 

Erwin seemed unconvinced. He swooped down on Christa, ignoring her tearstained face, and pulled her up by her bound hands. 

“Tell me,” he said quietly, “what is your name?”

“My name is Historia Reiss,” she said, her voice wavering and her eyes wide. 

Ymir’s own eyes had widened, and she struggled to stand up; she struggled to protect the girl whom she had just pledged to save. 

Erwin sent her down to the floor, backhanding her cheek roughly. She held back a string of curses, understanding that Christa needed all the strength she could get: and Ymir could either help, or hinder that. 

She prayed to the God she did not believe in that she would help. 

“Good,” said Erwin. “Now, what is that girl’s name over there?” Erwin pointed to Sasha for a reason that Christa did not understand. 

“Sasha. Her name is Sasha.” 

“And the boy?”

“Connie.”

“And this girl here?”

“Ymir,” said Christa. It wasn’t hard to say; it was true: her name was Ymir Reiss.

Erwin dropped Christa’s hands. Christa fell backwards with a thump against the wall they had been leaning against. Ymir sent Erwin a gaze of hatred. 

Erwin retreated, but not for long. He seemed to be considering his options, and he wheeled towards Connie and Sasha. 

“What’s her name?” he asked Sasha, pointing to Christa. 

Sasha caught her tongue, and said haltingly, “Hist-Historia.”

Connie nodded his affirmation. They didn’t know Christa’s reason of hiding her identity, but they would stand by it. It was impossible not to love Christa; it was impossible to not want to protect her. 

“You see,” said Erwin, “I have a problem. I know one of you in this room is not who you say you are, and I intend to find out who that is. And I have no qualms with hurting each and every one of you until you tell the truth.” 

Silence. Christa’s rapid heartbeat. Ymir’s eyes filled with lust for vengeance. 

Without warning, he pulled Ymir to her feet. He pulled a knife from his boot, and spun Ymir around so that he held the knife to her bare throat. 

“You think I’m gonna tell you anything, fuckin’ Eyebrows? I’m not afraid to die,” bluffed Ymir. She was terrified to die. But she was afraid that if she didn’t speak, then Christa would. And then Christa would be in danger. 

Erwin spun around the room, showing the three trembling others that he was very capable of taking Ymir’s life. 

“Now, does anyone have anything they want to say?”

Christa opened her mouth, her breath catching in her throat.

(“Let me protect you, Christa.” And for some reason, Christa had agreed. And Ymir was sending her a look akin to hatred; a look she knew to be a silent and pleading threat: Do not reveal yourself, it said. Do not betray me.)

And Christa let a shock-induced tear slip from her cheek. 

“You won’t kill me,” said Ymir confidently. 

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m worth too fucking much. That’s why,” said Ymir, a smile playing on her lips. 

Christa’s insides screamed. All the blood in her body ran to her helpless surface nerves, the nerves that cried to be broken, the nerves that cried for pain. 

The nerves that cried for the tension inside them to be broken open with blood. 

No, Ymir. No. 

Erwin’s eyes widened slowly, until his mouth curved into a confident smile. “I thought America’s princess would have a little more class.”

“Well, fuck what you thought. You’d have less class then me if you were abandoned by your parents into the hands of incompetent idiots.”

Erwin rolled his eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Christa Lenz.”

And at that moment, Christa thought that perhaps Ymir had lied. Because she, she and her stupid martyr complex, she had liked the pain. 

“No, my love,” said Ymir, as soon as Erwin left. “I liked the fact that it wasn’t you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My next chapter is monsterously long. I promise it's coming soon.   
> Thanks for waiting.


	21. Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The numbers matched. What can I say?

They say that you know you’re in love when all those stupid love songs make sense. 

They’d been making sense a while, sadly, but he’d been concentrating on the sad ones. Levi liked love songs sun by women with deep voices, in particular. It reminded him of his childhood. 

One in particular was playing over and over in his subconscious when he woke up. 

“You see I’m only human--  
I want him to hurt…”

But Levi was sure that love wasn’t supposed to be like that. Sure, there was heightened emotion, and often hatred, but love shouldn’t be like that. 

Levi didn’t want to wish pain on someone. Not even Erwin. But he wanted Erwin to suffer for what he’d done; he wanted Erwin to hurt. He wanted Erwin to get piss drunk a couple times, trying to forget about Levi.

So yes, that song made sense. That song, the song that his French Canadian mother used to sing along to, “God Give Me Strength.” 

He loathed the fact that his father left his mother; that was why he told Petra’s father and basically anyone else he met that he had simply been disowned by his father. It was easier to say that; he couldn’t explain why. Sure, people asked questions, stupid questions like “Why,” to which he invariably responded, “Because I’m gay.”

But those questions were somehow still easier to answer than it was to say, “I never had a father.” 

The song his mother connected with so well must have been at least fifty years old. It hadn’t lost its relevance, that was sure. 

He crawled off the couch, banishing thoughts of his lost love from his mind. He had more sobering concerns to attend to, like remembering exactly where he was, and why he was on the couch in the first place. 

Immediately, he recalled Armin’s panic attack, and Eren’s intense concentration on Armin. Levi thought he should attend to Armin first. Lev knocked twice on his own bedroom door, as a warning to Armin (in the off chance that he was awake), that he was going to enter. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. 

When he opened the door, he saw Armin still passed out on his bed. The wall clock read eight-thirty, and Levi figured that given all he had to do and discuss, it was best that he wake Armin up. He hesitated briefly, wondering if panic attacks could last into the morning, but continued on anyway. 

Levi was thankful that Armin responded to a gentle shake on his shoulder, his pale blue eyes cracking open in fear before relaxing again. It seems that Armin’s panic attack, at least, hadn’t lasted into the morning. 

Seeing Levi beside his bed, Armin asked confusedly, “Where’s Eren?”

“Sleeping, probably,” responded Levi. “In the basement. You okay, kid?”

Armin nodded, “I thought he was here, last night.”

“He was, Armin,” said Levi tiredly. He never had been a morning person, but to dispel Armin’s curiosity--and, okay, to prove that Levi had talked to Eren--he mentioned, “He didn’t break his promise to you.” 

His offhand comment had the desired effect. Armin realized immediately that Levi had talked to Eren through the night, and Levi had to curb himself from smiling. It was goddamn ridiculous, anyway. 

Armin blushed. “He told you about that. I’m sorry I caused you trouble.”

Levi shook his head, dismissing Armin’s apology. 

“What triggered the attack?” Levi didn’t really need to know. He was just curious. 

Armin set his mouth in a determined line, as if he was forcing himself to be calm and analytical. “I came up with a plan, one that I think will work.” He took a long breath. “I just hate the idea of using the people I love to do the dirty work.”

“I’ll ask you to explain that plan as soon as you can,” said Levi, “but in the interim, for what it’s worth, if those people are worth loving, they want you safe. They’ll forgive anything else.”

Levi felt awkward and stilted for saying that; it wasn’t his style to comfort others. But he thought that Armin deserved to know that, anyway. 

“But what if I’m not worthy of their forgiveness? A good person wouldn’t be considering the things I’ve thought of. I’m not a good person anymore.”

“Doesn’t that depend on perspective?”

Armin shot him a surprised glance. ‘I’ve had a conversation with Eren about that before. That’s a little unnerving to hear words I’ve said before come right back at me.”

Levi neglected to tell Armin whom he was quoting, and instead kept his face expressionless. 

Armin got out of bed and made a genuine attempt to make the bed, but Levi stopped him with a glare. 

“If you need to shower or whatever, the bathroom’s there,” said Levi. “Don’t make the bed. You’d fuck it up, anyway.”

Plus, he was going to put the sheets and pillowcases through the laundry. He couldn’t stand the idea of not doing that. But Armin didn’t necessarily need to know all the details of Levi’s borderline-obsession with cleaning. 

Well, on a second thought, Armin probably already knew, considering Levi’s recruitment of Eren and Armin to cater to his twice-a-week cleaning of the basement program. 

He was hardly going to change his schedule. 

He stripped the bed without further ado, and went straight to his laundry room to begin a load. It didn’t take long to start it up, and Levi decided to make himself a cup of tea before he questioned Armin. 

Before his feet even entered the kitchen, though, he remembered. Eren. Eren-in-the-basement-Eren, Eren whom had basically locked himself in Levi’s basement of his own accord, last night, so as to not inconvenience Levi. 

Thinking back, though, Levi felt a touch of apprehension. What if it was a trick? He hadn’t bound Eren’s arms or legs, what if he opened the basement door, only to find Eren waiting behind it, trying to escape?

While Levi had every faith in his physical ability to neutralize the eighteen year old, if it came to that, he very much did not wish it to come to that. 

And he didn’t want to risk getting either of them hurt. He mentally berated himself. He was so stupid to allow his petty emotions to get in the way of his escape from the Wings of Freedom. 

Either way, though, Levi had to face the boy in his basement, despite his raging headache. 

But after. He needed to talk to Armin, and that fact was accentuated by Armin’s hesitant entry into the main room; the boy had showered, dressed, and looked completely composed, but wary. 

That was hardly surprising. Armin hadn’t let himself let down his guard in all of the time he had been at Levi’s house. 

Well, perhaps. If he counted the panic attack, then he had let his guard down. But somehow Levi realized that wasn’t voluntary. Although a panic attack was kind of like caving in (that was how Levi explained it to himself, anyway; it was like returning to an addiction), it was also inevitable. And Armin had undergone so much stress--

But Levi refused to let himself wallow in self-hatred. That part of his life had passed, and although he was sure it would return, he had more to worry about than his own stupid self-esteem issues. He had Petra to worry about. He had Armin to worry about. He had Petra’s unborn baby to worry about. He had himself to worry about. 

And he had Eren to worry about. 

“Dis, gamin,” Levi began, “Dis-moi le projet.” 

“En anglais,” replied Armin. And as simply as that, they switched to English. 

Gone, now, were Levi’s careful eyes and understanding words. Armin he considered his equal, and thus any kindness he showed would be irrelevant, given the situation. He trusted Armin to keep his head. 

“Let’s sit down,” directed Armin, “and you’ve got to stop calling me “brat,” in English or in French.” (Gamin means brat in French, in fact the translation from above is: “Hey, brat. Tell me the plan.” Armin replies, “Only in English.”)

Levi nodded relatively compliantly, but his frown remained prominent. Armin refused to acknowledge Levi’s face, instead pushing his eyes forward at an invisible target--perhaps just so he could stay focused. 

When they were both seated, across from each other in a business-like fashion, Armin began. 

“This plan of mine depends on two things. First, I need to know: has Erwin said anything about you offering Eren and me for ransom?”

“Yes,” said Levi flatly. “Both of you. But Erwin does not intend to carry out Eren’s ransom.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Armin. “But that’s besides the point. It’s good. The ransom is a perfect excuse to talk to Mikasa, and in fact my plan was hinged on it.”

“Eren gave me his mother’s phone number,” supplied Levi. “Last night.”

“Perfect, said Armin, still extremely focused. “I don’t know if she’ll have gotten Mikasa a new phone, but she might have Mikasa’s number. Anyway, the overall goal is to get Mikasa to rescue me and Eren, and to pin this on Erwin.” 

“How?” asked Levi. 

“Listen,” said Amin, almost authoritatively. And he explained it all. About how their call to Mikasa was supposed to draw her to Erwin, and to preferably go to the police with this information. Armin was relatively certain she would do so; Mikasa had a good head on her, and that was the logical thing to do. The only danger, Armin had calculated, would be the possibility that Erwin’s possible arrest would cause his loyal supporters and conspirers to finish the job early. 

But he trusted Mikasa, he trusted her enough to follow a set of subtle clues that he planned on setting. The ransom call would be vital; Levi would have to make the call, of course, with the knowledge that whatever he said would be devoured and carefully analyzed by Mikasa. Although she wasn’t as good at strategy as Armin was, Armin had to admit that Mikasa’s versatility and brilliant adaptability to any situation made her the perfect person to follow his trail. 

Throughout Armin’s explanation, Levi had been nodding, but Armin noticed him draw his hands to his temple and rub at his head agitatedly, as if he were fighting a migraine. 

He resolved to ask Levi about it after, but he still had aspects of the plan not yet explained. However, it was much clearer in his mind than how he explained it to Levi, and so he relied on Levi to ask questions. 

“How do we get Mikasa here within the week?” 

At Armin’s look of confusion--primarily as to why it had to be on such a short time schedule--, Levi paled a little bit. He had forgotten that he had not yet told Armin all the facts. “We have a week. Just a week, before--”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He, Levi Ackerman, was a coward, he thought. He cursed himself and his damn headache. 

“Before what, Levi?”

“I’m not quite sure.” Oh, but he was sure. Levi’s voice had lost its steely, confident quality. In its place was guilt and self doubt. 

Armin sent him a disapproving glance, as if to say, “Now is not the time or the place to feel bad about your actions. Just get me the information I need.”

So, Levi complied with the darkening of his young ally’s face, and he elaborated. “Eren’s a prime target to Erwin, Armin. I think Erwin wants to make a statement on public television. You know, like how he did back in ‘25.”

2025, recounted Armin. He had been twelve in the so-called year of panic, the year that the second recession of the 2000s had hit. The same year that an elusive, small, and murderous terrorist organization had reared its ugly head and executed a public official on television. 

Considering that, actually, Armin and Eren were lucky to be alive. Erwin had been ruthless, copying the style of a 1970s serial killer to get his agenda on the news. Erwin had been twenty-five, an army medic living in the outer edges of New York city. And he had brilliantly engineered a plan to threaten Fox News (although Fox News was already discounted as the most biased of all the news programs) that they would be responsible for the deaths of an entire politician’s family if they did not air his self-made video. The video of the execution of a corrupt and extremely rich public official, one who had been acquitted for syphoning public funds. 

The kind of man Erwin had hated the most. But now, sober, and not high on drugs or love, Levi felt sick. He almost craved judgement from Armin, craved his own denunciation for doing what he knew to be wrong. 

He waited, almost unconsciously, for Armin’s reaction. Armin’s reaction to the statement that Eren and Christa would be most likely brutally killed for the world to see. 

Levi wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t what happened. 

Armin set his thin lips into a hard line, and knit his eyebrows together. His expression resembled anger, but was controlled. Levi was intuitive enough to recognize it as a mixture of determination and passion, and Levi immediately gained more respect for Armin. 

Saying what both of them had been thinking, Armin stated, “He means to kill Eren, then. Eren and Christa. An we can’t let that happen.”

Levi’s eyes flared in agreement. 

“Levi. I’d like to know, what exactly does Eren mean to you?”

Levi waited a while. He had no idea how to respond, and he ran his hand over his hair and then his mouth, agitatedly. He was uncomfortable, but he decided to tell Armin the truth. 

Actually, though, that was the problem. He didn’t know exactly what Eren meant to him, except that it was more than he should mean to him. And so, he started with that. 

“More than he should.”   
“Elaborate,” said Armin. His comment bordered on being a command, which strangely comforted Levi. It made him feel like he had no choice. And sometimes, it’s one of the most relieving sensations imaginable to be deprived of a difficult choice. 

“Long story short, I’ve been in love with Erwin for six years. We dated for four of those years. The last four. But I ended it with Erwin mostly because Eren--”

He swallowed awkwardly, unsure of how to phrase the last part. Armin waited unyieldingly. 

“Eren--he reminds me that humanity, and humans--they’re worth protecting. And I want to protect him. And somehow, I want him to protect me too.” 

Armin’s voice lost its commanding quality, but the insistence was there. “Levi, you’re being vague. I need to know, are you in love with--No, it doesn’t even have to be love--are you infatuated with, or falling in love with, or developing romantic feelings of any sort, for Eren?”

Levi felt the breath leave his lungs. “I’ve only ever been in love once,” he said, softly. 

“And that love sounds like it was pretty unconditional. But Erwin passed the point of your conditions, didn’t he? He threatened someone that you could grow to love?”

Levi did not trust himself to speak. He just stared forward, and assumed that Armin would properly understand his silence as his affirmation. 

After a long pause, Levi regained his strength and decided that Armin deserved some semblance of an explanation. 

“I don’t know how much you know about the Wings. Did you read about the kidnapping and murder six years ago?”

“Yes,” replied Armin. 

“Well,” Levi’s voice cracked slightly, “I thought that Erwin would only target the guilty. Because that official did things wrong; I don’t know if he deserved to die, but the fact that he died meant something, and well, he wasn’t innocent. I thought that Erwin respected that which was innocent. But, I can’t wrap my head around it. Eren is not guilty. Eren is the purest soul I have ever met in my life. None of the people in this affair are at fault, either. He’s attacking the innocent, and he’s attacking them and manipulating them based on their love for others.”

Armin restrained himself from asking Levi where this self-righteousness had been when Levi had agreed to help Erwin kidnap high schoolers from a music conservatory. But he simply waited, willing his lips not to frown, and willing his eyes to remain receptive. 

“It’s wrong. It’s just wrong,” said Levi, a little more strongly the second time, “These people are the people I swore to protect when I joined the military.”

Armin watched him, a little wide-eyed, but came to understand the depth of Levi’s conviction. His regret was genuine, but Armin did not understand how someone who truly felt this way now could have ever completed such actions in the past. 

Instead, he asked what came to mind. “You’re awfully young to have gone to college and have been in the military,” said Armin, expecting some sort of answer. 

“I joined when I was twenty-two,” said Levi, “And I was discharged. So was Erwin, actually,” he added as an afterthought. “He was a medic. I was set to be on a bomb squad.”

He shook his head at himself before he divulged any more of his past. He had never been one for too many explanations, but somehow Armin and Eren’s plight, as well as their straightforward personalities, made him feel as if his explanations were a way of righting an immense wrong. 

Armin noticed once again Levi’s physical condition, again, as Levi’s fingers twitched, and he readjusted his cravat. He fumbled with his hair, drawing his fingers through it, too. Finally, it clicked. 

“Levi, When’s the last time you drank or smoked?”

“A couple days,” replied Levi. His arms itched. His legs itched. His head felt heavy, and he felt hungover. It wasn’t fair, he was doing a good thing. So why did he feel like he had just been hit by a fucking bus?

“Chew gum,” said Armin. “That helped my friend. It helps ease withdrawal symptoms and make you forget. That’s how it is with cigarettes, anyway.”

“It won’t help,” said Levi. “Nothing ever fucking helps, and I’m not fucking strong enough to resist it.”

Armin stayed calm, not suscepting himself to Levi’s hostile worldview. “You’ve tried before?” asked Armin. 

“Not with alcohol,” he responded honestly. “But yes with cigarettes. The thing is, I hate smoking, but I took it because it helped me stop the other shit I was doing.”

Armin nodded. “Erwin was a doctor--” Armin hesitated, wondering if he was overstepping his boundaries. He was, almost certainly. But he continued. “Erwin is a doctor. And he didn’t help you?”

“He did,” said Levi shortly. “He got me off the drugs I was on when he found me. And he held my fucked up, blue hands, when I OD'd and tried to kill myself.” 

A moment of hesitation. Levi wasn’t sure how he managed to say it without his voice cracking, but he did. 

“I left my mother to find my dead body. But I even fucked that up.” 

And Armin had absolutely no idea what to say. He was stunned into silence, and almost grateful when Levi made a sound. A small chuckle, accompanied by a cynical smile. He had planned that effect; it gave him pleasure that his past was as uncomfortable to others as it was for him to say it. What he didn’t enjoy was the fact that all his words were painfully true. 

“Well, fuck,” continued Levi, ready to change the subject rapidly. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, and I have Eren’s mother to call.” 

Armin regained his composure, and requested: “Can you put it on speaker? I can tell you what to say if need be. I won’t speak unless it’s an emergency.” 

“Armin?” asked Levi, “Why don’t we just tell Mikasa the truth, and ask her to come get you, and…” 

Yea, on a second thought, Levi realized that sounded kind of stupid. He wasn’t sure exactly what about it was stupid, but the fact that it was simple was clue enough. 

“Two reasons,” explained Armin. Fortunately, Armin had better diplomacy, and less of a tendency to respond sarcastically than Levi had. “One, she will kill you, and even if you survive her attempt to kill you, which she won’t, she will make sure you go to prison for a very, very long time. She won’t take any excuses. If she knows your role in this as any role other than that of a victim of Erwin, she will destroy you.”

“Oh?” said Levi. “And second?”

“It’s too risky. If Mikasa goes just after you, then Erwin might go free. And if Erwin goes free, then we’re all in trouble.” 

“Okay,” said Levi. “This is why you’re the strategist. I swear, though, you better not fuck me over, because I know it seems like I have a bad past and a pity story as to why I did all those bad things, but--”

“I know,” said Armin. 

“No,” said Levi, “you don’t. I may feel bad about my actions, but I will kill you if you betray me.”

“I believe that,” said Armin. 

“Good,” said Levi. “Now, I also have to contact one of your family members, so if you have a number, I need it now.” 

Armin shrugged sadly. “I don’t know who you would call.”

Levi looked up abruptly. “But aren’t your parents rich? Any relative, rich?”

“My parents died in a car crash when I was very young. My grandfather raised me, but he wasn’t particularly wealthy. He died last year.”

“But...how did you afford the conservatory? That thing’s expensive as fuck!”

“Scholarship,” murmured Armin. “I was taking out-of-school med classes, to become a doctor, which attracted their interest. They’re trying to broaden their basic magnet--anyway, it’s not important. But I worked really hard to get where I was. I got top score in every conservatory class, and they needed a harpist. So…”

He trailed off, his blue eyes cloudy. 

“What the fuck is a harpist?”

“Uhh… someone who plays the harp,” explained Armin. 

“Well, shit,” said Levi. “Your story sucks too. Plus we’re supposed to ransom everyone but Christa and Eren. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I don’t know what this means.” He was scratching his head again. 

He was feeling the urge to call Erwin, but he brushed the thought from his mind. 

“You could probably call Mikasa for that, too, I guess. That would do for the time being. Worry about Eren first, though,” directed Armin. 

Levi was relieved that he was taking charge. Although Levi was good at improvisation, he took orders--that was his skill. He took orders from people that he trusted--which numbered very few--and he executed those orders brilliantly. But figuring out a plan? 

Not his forte. Erwin had done that. 

And so, heaving a sigh of relief, Levi silently agreed. 

“Now, When you talk to Mikasa’s mother, pretend to be a friend of hers. Ill help you if needed, but honestly I think you can figure it out.”

Levi nodded. He might have been annoyed at Armin’s motherish concern, but he understood its value. 

Then again, Armin failed to recall that Levi had been an expert at managing a double life for almost six years. 

Levi glanced down at the scrap of paper he held in his hand, and dialed the number. 

A soft voice responded after the first ring. 

“Hello?” Whoever spoke had hesitated before speaking, just a moment, and had breathed just loudly enough to make it obvious: the answerer was expecting a call. 

“Hello,” replied Levi, as cordially as he could muster. “I--uh, I wanted to check up on Mikasa. I’m a friend of hers. But she isn’t answering her phone, so I was wondering if she had a different number…”

Armin was impressed. He uncharacteristically gave Levi a subtle thumbs up. 

“I’d be happy to give you a number, but I’d like to know who you are, specifically, first.”

Levi muted the phone quickly, Armin said, “Say your name is Marco,” and Levi unmuted it as quickly as before. 

“Oh, yes of course. Sorry. My name’s Marco. I don’t know if Mikasa has mentioned me to you but--”

“Marco? It’s nice to hear from you. How’s your arm?”

Levi refused to let himself panic. “Um, I’m okay. I’d rather not talk about it.”

What was wrong with Marco’s arm? Levi had absolutely no idea. He just hoped that she would give him the number, and fast. 

“Did you see Mikasa in the hospital?”

“No, I didn’t get a chance. Listen, um, I have to go soon, but I really was hoping to speak to Mikasa--”

“Sure, right.” Mikasa’s mother hesitated a moment, and the phone recorded the static of her bustling around. 

She gave him the number without further ado, and he wrote it down rapidly. He thanked her, and wished her a good day. She lingered, hesitating to hang up, and so Levi hung up first. 

“Good thinking,” said Armin, referring to Levi’s response to Mikasa’s mother’s question. “I wonder what did happen to Marco’s arm...I hope he’s okay.”

“Okay,” said Levi, calming himself down from the mild adrenaline he had experienced making the call. 

“Should we call Mikasa now?”

“Yes,” replied Armin, “but I think we should plan it a little more first. Almost certainly, she’s going to ask for proof that you have Eren. And that means she’ll want to speak to him, or see a picture of him, or a video of him. Preferably the latter, knowing her character. But in any of those instances, she will be able to tell in an instant if he’s scared.” 

“And?” asked Levi, not yet connecting the points that Armin was recounting. 

“So, we can’t tell Eren anything about this plan.” Armin hesitated, hoping Levi would come to the same conclusion to follow. 

“Oh,” said Levi. And Armin was fortunate: he understood the logical conclusion. “I have to scare the shit out of him, don’t I? And I have to make it real. To make him hate me. To make him fear me. So that he can properly draw Mikasa to him. So Mikasa won’t know our plan, and so we’ll be safe?” 

He didn’t quite understand the connection. But he understood that he didn’t understand enough to make the judgement call. He had to vest his trust in Armin. 

Armin nodded serenely. “I don’t know if makes it any easier to know this, but I think that if you were in a different situation, Eren could grow to like you, too.”

Levi gave him a sharp look. “Thanks, kid.”

Armin let Levi’s comment slide despite their previous arrangement. 

“You should put that number into your phone,” muttered Armin. “You know, before you lose it.”

Levi gave him a death glare. “As if I’d lose it.” Nevertheless, he obeyed Armin’s instructions, creating a new contact (Mikasa), and inputted the number.   
As he pressed “Save Contact,” his phone beeped a warning. 

Warning: This number is inputted into your phone under a different contact name. Merge contacts? 

Armin must have noticed Levi’s look of confusion, because he leaned towards Levi’s phone to read the flashing alert. 

“You have Mikasa’s number already?”

Levi muttered, “I don’t know.” He exed out of the warning box, and flipped through his contacts to see which number matched. He only had about ten numbers in his phone, so it didn’t take long. 

His thumb hesitated over the last name on the list. 

Erwin Smith. 

The number matched.


	22. Ocean Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ocean mists in disappointment.

Levi recalled Erwin’s cryptic words at the meeting. Someone called Annie had access to his phone. Did that mean that Mikasa was going by the fake name Annie? 

He looked at Armin, and explained as briefly as possible. 

“Mikasa’s phone number is the same as Erwin’s. I don’t know why.” He added the last part to dispel any of Armin’s inevitable and unanswerable questions. There was no complete explanation. 

They looked at each other, coming to a common agreement. The only answers they could get would come from dialing that number. 

And so, he did. 

The phone rang eight times, and went to voicemail. Quite anticlimactic really; both him and Armin looked at the phone, almost stupefied. It had not occurred to them that no one would pick up. However, their surprise was quickly ended by Levi’s phone ringing. 

He waited through the first ring for reasons he couldn’t explain. He picked up on the second, clicked the phone on speaker, and greeted his unknown correspondent. 

“Hello,” he said, with as calm and smooth a voice as he could muster. (Even Armin admitted it sent chills down his back; Levi’s “kidnapper” voice was definitely unnerving.)

“Hello,” breathed the voice on the other line. Armin’s heart jumped up into his throat: undoubtedly, it was Mikasa. 

“Am I speaking to Mikasa Ackerman?”

“That depends who’s asking,” was her reply. Armin nodded at Levi, confirming her identity. Levi ignored him; he had done this ransom-thing before, for Erwin, and he needed to extract himself from external influences. 

“My name is Levi,” he said. “And I have in my possession someone very dear to you.”

“I understand,” said Mikasa. “What do I have to do to get him back?” 

“Well,” said Levi,“ allowing his lips to curl into a smile, as if his facial expression would make his performance more convincing, “it depends. Do you want him dead or alive?”

Mikasa ignored his question. Her response, though, caught him slightly off guard. “What color is your hair?” she asked in return. 

Levi muted the phone, and muttered quickly to Armin: “What color is her hair?”

“Black,” came the reply. 

Levi unmuted. “The same as yours, Mikasas.”

Armin nodded approvingly. There was silence on the other line, and the thought crossed his mind that Mikasa had a backup speaker, ready, too, to offer her advice on what to say. But who could that be? The only person close to her, truly, was Eren (and perhaps Armin himself.)

It was unlikely that Mikasa was working with anyone, actually. She was better suited working individually. 

Mikasa must have formulated some response, though, because she responded after her brief pause. 

“Are you asking for ransom?”

“You sound like a smart girl, Mikasa. So, you tell me if you know how many people your father hurt when he won the lawsuit against the Workers of the World Group.”

If he was going to play this game, he had to play it like how Erwin would. 

“I’m aware. But my father is dead,” she replied impassively. 

Levi froze. Was Grisha Jaeger, the law-firm giant upon which this whole fiasco relied, dead?

Armin murmured an answer to his unspoken question, “her first father was killed. Her biological one. She isn’t close to the Jaegers.” 

Levi nodded his affirmation. “Yes, but Eren’s father is not dead, is he,” Levi phrased to Mikasa. He did not pose it as a question. 

“Let’s stop these word games,” came her ardent reply. “Tell me. What chance do I have in getting him back?”

“Next to none,” said Levi. He made himself laugh softly at the end. “You’re wasting time. The sun is halfway overhead, and this affair is slipping into evening…”

“I need proof that you have Eren. A video or a picture, with today’s newspaper. Or let me talk to him.”

“He’s not currently available right now,” said Levi deviously. “But someone else you might recognize is.”

Mikasa had no time to respond: Levi was fast, and she was unprepared. He put down the phone on the table, and beckoned to Armin. 

Armin met the adrenaline that surged in his chest head on, but he ignored it. He walked towards Levi, bracing himself for what he knew had to come. 

Levi did not hit him hard, but he aimed for his solar plexus, which caused Armin to cry out in shock and gasp for breath. Indubitably, Mikasa could hear his wheezing from wherever she was, connected to them through a feeble signal. He coughed a few times, trying to regain his composure. 

Before he had a chance to speak, Mikasa cried out. “Armin! Oh God, Armin--”

She was losing her cool. Good. 

“Armin, it’ll be okay, I’m gonna get you out of there…”

The more emotion she felt, the better. The more pain she felt, the better. Because then she wouldn’t see the holes in Levi and Armin’s facade. 

Armin, though, wasn’t thinking about that. He felt real tears well in his eyes at her concern. He leaned closer to the phone, and softly cried, “Mikasa, I’m okay, don’t come after us, we’re okay, Eren’s--”

Levi cut him off convincingly with a cuff to the jaw. It sounded worse than it was, but that was the intention. Armin swept his arm in front of his mouth to muffle his cry of pain, but a groan escaped his lips anyway. 

He spoke quickly, as if under duress. He even felt under duress, which probably helped. 

“Mikasa! One week! Find Erwin--”

Levi put the phone off speaker, and murmured into the phone, “We’ll be in correspondence.”

And then he disconnected. 

He turned to Armin, surprisingly feeling not a shred of guilt. Their behavior had been in equal parts necessary, and he had no doubt that he was doing the best he could for himself. 

Armin nodded. “That was good. I think we convinced her. But you didn’t have to hit me that freaking hard.” 

Levi shrugged. “Rather safe than sorry.”

Armin had difficulty in maintaining his no-swearing policy. 

“Now that’s over with,” Levi said, “I need to get you and Eren something to eat. First, though, I’m gonna tie you back up in the basement. If we’re gonna make Eren hate me, we have to make it real. So, follow me.” 

Armin noticed that Levi’s eyes had turned miserable. At that, a hint of a sad smile graced Armin’s features. Levi’s concern for Eren reaffirmed his idea that in any other situation, Eren and Levi could have fallen in love. 

But not in this one, sadly. 

Levi was overcome by a touch of paranoia as he unlocked the basement door. He almost expected Eren to jump behind it and to escape with Armin. 

His left hand clutched at his concealed knife. Not that he would use it, but it could be useful as a threat. 

However, no such thing occurred. Eren was simply pacing in the basement; he was no doubt recently awakened, and apparently pondering his complicated situation. 

Levi removed the roll of duct tape that he had pushed up his arm. 

He directed Armin in front of him, and Armin stuck out his hands without complaint. Levi taped them together tightly, and beckoned to Eren. Eren was less complacent about this process: although he didn’t attempt to flee, he didn’t feel the urge to make it any easier for Levi, either. 

Eren even smirked as he insisted that Levi come to him. Whether Levi liked it or not, though, this was a good opportunity for him to make a point. Nevertheless, Levi felt a little ill at the idea. He could feel Armin’s eyes on his back, which strengthened his resolve. 

But that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

He matched Eren’s petulant smile with a gold glare, and waited for Eren to put his hands out. Predictably, Eren failed to do so, and Levi began to lose patience with Eren and himself. Feeding on his own mild annoyance, he kicked Eren, hard, in the shin, in a deft and quick action. 

Eren cursed shamelessly. 

“What the fuck was that for?” Pain brought tears to the corners of Eren’s eyes. Levi smiled a little at Eren’s disgruntlement, and said, 

“Brat, I don’t have all day. Put out your hands.”

Eren hesitated a moment, rubbing his sore leg, but meeting Levi’s impatient stare, he obeyed Levi’s demand. 

Levi could not bring himself to look into Eren’s eyes when he bound the latter’s hands. Eren’s eyes would have been misted with disappointment. And Levi needed to be stronger before he could face that look in the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.


	23. All That Is Evil And All That Is Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa learns that for all evil that there is, there is also good.

Annie leaned her head against the couch, her short legs sprawled in front of her, and her head aching strangely. She felt a change in the weight on the couch as Mikasa sat down to her left. Except, unlike she had, Mikasa had sat on the couch, like a normal person. 

They both looked straight ahead of them, their muscles tense and their eyes fixed on a television screen that had long ago been clicked off. 

Mikasa sighed a little. Annie contemplated cracking her knuckles, but thought better of it; the pervading silence was somewhat comforting, and she did not want to interrupt it. The events of the day--and the cold, merciless voice that had threatened them from the other end of the phone line--

Mikasa didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about the conversation, or the way her heart dropped to her knees when she had heard the steely quality of that voice. She didn’t want to think about what that could mean for Eren. Indubitably, though, Eren and Armin were in the hands of that voice, and that voice was, to Mikasa, everything that was evil in the world. 

Given what Mikasa had learned in these past few weeks about the Wings of Freedom, Mikasa could guess that Armin would be okay. But Eren? He was the perfect rich-kid symbol; his parents had appeared on television and had offered money in return for Eren’s safety and return. 

Fuck. That had been so, so, unbelievably stupid. Mikasa supposed that they couldn’t be blamed; they didn’t know that their son had been kidnapped by one of the most notorious anti-rich extremist groups in human history. But still. 

Mikasa was going to need a miracle to get Eren (and Armin, she supposed) out of this. Well, another miracle, rather, because although Annie had gotten them a fair ways, her first miracle may not be enough to save Eren. 

But that sort of thinking wouldn’t get her anywhere. She focused down at the top of Annie’s head, instead. Almost without thinking, as if it were the most natural inclination in the world, Mikasa absentmindedly stroked the end of Annie’s short ponytail. 

Annie, responding to the gesture, looked up, surprised. Mikasa withdrew her slightly trembling fingers, abashed, and stumbled over her request. 

“Can I play with your hair?” Mikasa could feel her cheeks heat up slightly; it was a ridiculous request, and it was Annie, and Annie hardly allowed people to touch her arm, let alone her hair. 

But Annie didn’t reply like that at all. She looked a little unsure, but nodded anyway, and relaxed under the taller girl’s tentative touch. 

Once again, Mikasa wished she could have been free of the cast that restricted her left hand, because she was instantly calmed by how Annie’s hair fell through her fingers. She wished she could have braided it, too, but her hand was still practically useless. 

The pair stayed there for a few minutes, and Mikasa could feel Annie’s breathing calm almost as soon as hers did. However, her breath quickened as her restless mind passed over something she had failed to mention to Annie. 

But how would she react? 

Mikasa paused for a moment, as if to speak, but bit her tongue subtly. Now was not the time, she considered. 

But Mikasa’s hesitation did not go unnoticed, and Annie adjusted her posture so she could see Mikasa out of the corner of her eye.” 

“What is it, Mika?”

“Well,” started Mikasa, before she decided to barrel through her scrambled thoughts,” I would say that I don’t know why I thought of this, but I really do know. I’m just not going to tell you why this crossed my mind. Anyway, though, there’s something that it seems reasonable to mention since you said I’m your friend.” 

Annie kept her face passive and replied, “What would that be?” Her voice was softer than normal, as if it covered over a hope that had long ago been passed over. 

“I guess it’s easiest to explain if I just say that some people think me and Eren are dating. I of course tell them that we’re not, because in all honesty, that would be weird. We’re brother and sister, and it’s never really crossed my mind to think of him in that way until other people suggested it. But truth is, I’ve never actually been attracted to him, or, well, guys in general. Always girls.”

She had hurried her last thought fragment, as if she was embarrassed. She really wasn’t, though; it was simply that she was unused to telling anyone something that she had held close to her for a while. 

“I hope that that came up for the right reason,” murmured Annie cryptically, so quietly that Mikasa almost couldn’t hear her. “Well, if you expected me to judge you, you had the wrong expectations.” 

Annie hesitated a bit, and Mikasa was unsure if she would continue. The latter awkwardly flipped her hand through Annie’s hair. 

“What about you?” asked Mikasa, bluntly, “I mean, you don’t seem like you’re in a relationship right now, but…”

“I’ve never been in a relationship, actually,” countered Annie, “not that I’ve wanted to be in one, and not that I haven’t wanted to be in one. It’s just worked out this way considering my charming personality.” Like all of Annie’s jokes, that one was delivered at a deadpan, and made it challenging for Mikasa to tell if it actually was a joke. 

She decided it was, and decided to wait to see if Annie was willing to elaborate. 

Annie felt her stomach drop. Not that she would ever let the other girl know that, but…

“I never gave myself a label,” she continued, swallowing with a bit of difficulty, “or a sexuality, because I’d never been attracted to anyone before. Not ever.” She tried to cover for her blatant usage of past tense by moving on, mentioning, “my brother would make fun of me for it, but it was easy for him. Some of my earliest memories are of him--he’s only three years older--telling me that he was in love with his “boyfriend.” I don’t even know when they turned official, but they’re still dating.” 

“Engaged, actually,” she added, with a second thought. 

Mikasa was not easily fooled. “You used the past tense,” she noted, refraining from cracking a nervous smile. God, this was awkward. But she had to push until this question was resolved; it was who Mikasa was. And she needed clarification so she could get focused. 

“Yes, I did,” replied Annie, “And I’ll make you a deal. Tell me about your first crush, and I’ll tell you about mine after.”

“Hmm,” consented Mikasa. “My first crush? I don’t really know. It was a long time ago.” She paused, but it was clear she would continue. “It wasn’t really a crush. It was just the first time I was ever attracted to anyone, and it was really weird. I was nine years old, and it was the day that I followed Eren home. It wasn’t Eren, though,” she explained before Annie could ask, “but we were sitting in the back seat of the car, and Eren’s dad was driving. Eren’s mom kept looking back to check on me, and Eren had fallen asleep on the drive home. I don’t even remember where we were coming from, but I felt safe for the first time in a long time. Eren’s head was on my shoulder--”

She paused again, and sniffed to avoid crying. This memory was too intertwined with memories of Eren; she had known this was going to be a bad idea, but she had started already, so she may as well continue.

“Anyway, I saw this girl. We slowed down to stop at a red light, and a girl just a little older than me looked me straight in the eyes, through the car window. She had striking blond hair, and she was holding onto this taller boy’s hand. She had beautiful blue eyes, and such a beautiful gaze. Like she understood everything that had ever happened on earth. But then the light turned green, and I thought I would never see her again.” 

“You thought?” asked Annie, “But you did see her again, didn’t you?”

“I think so,” admitted Mikasa, “I was never quite sure it was her. But anyway, because I saw that girl on the street, my first crush was naturally on a girl whom I thought looked like her. I think it was her, actually. Her name was Christa. Is, Christa, actually. If she’s still alive. She was among the abducted.” 

Annie’s eyes widened, but she made no comment. 

“She is beautiful, and sweet, and, well, selfless. She’s annoyingly optimistic, though, because it was always clear that she never actually feels as good as she pretends. Not many people see through that, though.” 

“Did you ever tell her? And how long did you like her?”

“I liked her for three years, actually. From when we were ten to when we were thirteen. We went to the same music school, and transferred into the same conservatory. I never told her, though. I was never even that close to her, although I suppose we were friends for a time.” 

“Why didn’t you become close?”

“Ymir,” explained Mikasa, “ever since the beginning of our friendship, it was clear that she was in love with Ymir. There was no doubt about the way she looked at her, and the way that Ymir looked back at her. They’ve dated for nearly five years, now, I think. It took them long enough, though. They’ve been best friends for a while.” 

Annie nodded her head passively. “Got a thing for blonds, then?”

Mikasa was unable to tell if it was a joke. She smiled anyway, though, and added, “What is it to you?”

“More than you’d think. But that’s what I’m going to explain now. A deal’s a deal.” 

Mikasa nodded. A frayed smile played on the edge of her features. Annie sighed in response, and avoided Mikasa’s gaze. 

“I really hate the word crush. Just wanted to start with that. But the English language is limiting, so I’ll use it anyway. My first “crush,”” (her nose wrinkled in disgust) “I met when I was twenty two. I saw her sleeping in the hospital bed that I was assigned to, and I felt like I’d seen her somewhere before even though I knew I hadn’t. I looked at her closed eyes, and the words she mumbled in her sleep, and I couldn’t stop looking.”

Annie refused to look backwards at Mikasa. Mikasa slid forward, off the couch, and next to Annie. 

Mikasa grabbed onto Annie’s hand. It was not smooth, it was not graceful; but it was sincere. 

“You had me the moment you told your uncle how to start living.” 

Annie smiled, then. It was the first time that Mikasa had seen this kind of smile, and it was unpracticed; forced. Mikasa thought it was beautiful, and she hardly protested when Annie leaned over Mikasa and brushed her lips softly over hers. Mikasa closed her eyes, and thought, perhaps, that everything would be okay.


	24. My Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter I wrote of this fanfiction.   
> It took me 40,000 words to get here.

“Levi,” said Armin. “It’s not enough. We need to scare him completely. Preferably tonight. So we can get proof to Mikasa.”

Armin’s words rang in his head. But he needed the right moment. And so he sat in the chair he had positioned in the basement, his notebook open on his lap, waiting for Eren’s inevitable interruption. 

Eren had clearly noticed Levi’s withdrawn mood. Armin shook his head at Eren drastically, warning against any interruption that was foreshadowed onto his face. But Armin knew just as well as Levi and Eren did that Armin’s warning would go unheeded. Had Armin thought otherwise, he wouldn’t have warned Eren at all. 

Levi calmed himself and allowed his eyes to glaze over. Miserably, he thought that this would be so much easier if he could collapse into drunkenness, collapse into the anger that lurked just underneath his second shot of bourbon. 

Damn sobriety. 

Before, he might have at least sound some satisfaction in teaching Eren not to be naive. But not now. There was too much at stake. 

“Are you okay, Levi?” asked Eren. 

How dare the dumb brat be endearing. How dare he. Levi did not respond; he ripped his last written poem out of his notebook. 

“Levi?” 

“What is it, brat?” he asked. 

“I was wondering if you were okay. You were acting like you’re struggling with some… I dunno, some decision I guess.”

“Listen, brat,” said Levi, as coldly as he could muster. “I don’t think you understand the nature of your situation.”

Eren shrank back. “Levi, I--” 

“You have one fucking week left to live,” said Levi. 

Eren flinched a little. But he didn’t back down. “I’m not exactly surprised,” he said.

Levi got up, his eyes flashing. “You’re supposed to be angry. To hate the man that’s caused this!” 

Eren looked at him, meeting his eyes gravely. 

“But I don’t hate you, Levi--in fact,”

But Levi didn’t let him finish the sentence. 

“Enough,” said Levi, and he crumpled up the piece of paper in his hand and threw it to the ground. He directed his next comment at Armin: “I have a few things to sort out with Eren.”

He walked purposelessly towards Eren and Armin. Roughly, he cut Armin’s bonds--he was too hurried to untie them--and drew the small boy up to him, almost tearing him off the ground. Armin did not resist, nor make a sound; he merely let his long blond hair cover his eyes. He was broken--even Levi was convinced. He made an unnecessary threat. 

“If you so much as make a noise--” Levi let Armin’s imagination finish his thought. He angrily pulled open the storage closet, and slammed Armin inside. He locked the door, and whirled around to Eren. 

He lashed out, and his foot made contact with Eren’s shoulder. The latter collapsed against Levi’s blow, and bit his tongue to avoid from crying out. His eyes were bright and luminous, more so than normal, because of the paleness of his skin. 

“Listen, kid,” said Levi, crouching down to where Eren half-sat, half-lay, on the floor. “I’m not your friend. I’ve never been your friend--so you can look at me with those disappointed eyes, and you can cry the oceans out of them, but listen. I’m not kind. I’m not good. I lied when I said I was just an engineer. I planned the entire damn thing, okay?”

Eren said nothing, but that wouldn’t do for a reaction. He wanted more of a reaction; he needed Eren to understand. 

He pushed Eren back onto the floor, and stood up abruptly. With no warning, he landed a strong kick onto Eren’s stomach: just below the ribs. Eren, this time, could not repress a groan of pain, but the boy still did not move. When Levi backed off a fraction of an inch, he hesitated, even though he did not intend to. There was something about Eren’s expression, though, that made him stop short: he had drawn his bound hands feebly in front of him to protect his face, and his eyes were closed. Somehow, though, he looked serene. 

“Why?” said Levi, implying all that he was thinking, but betraying none of the emotion that he was feeling, “Why can’t you understand?” 

Eren opened his eyes. “There’s nothing to be understood. You’re not a bad person.” Levi drew his foot back again to kick him, but was interrupted by Eren’s next words. 

“I don’t know why you want me to hate you, but if you do want that, you’re doing all the wrong things.”

Levi withdrew slightly, letting himself get just a little bit angry. His eyes glinted dangerously; somehow, the warmth of the dimly lit room seemed to dissipate, and his steel grey eyes sparkled metallically. His gaze was cold, as were his intentions. 

“The only mistake I made with this fiasco was aiming the attack in the wrong place. I needed more casualties to really make my point.”

And Eren just looked vaguely disappointed. He bit his lip to keep himself from thinking of Mikasa. How he hoped she was okay, and uninjured. 

And Levi backed away. Eren watched the older man retreat, his anger, disgust, and self-loathing emanating from his normally expressionless grey eyes. 

“And?” said Eren, timidly, as if he wished Levi to explain why his comment should scare him. 

“Tell me, Eren, what should I do?” Eren knew he should not reply. Not with the dangerous cynicism in Levi’s voice that indicated a rhetorical question. 

“Do you want me to brand it on your forehead? Cut it into your arm? Because I can. Levi,” he said, gesturing at himself, “is evil.”

He stomped away from Eren, and sat back into his chair and opened his notebook. He stared at the page for a while, refusing to let himself look up. He wouldn’t look up, he wouldn’t look up, not until Eren said something, anything; why did Levi need Eren to say something? 

This is stupid, this is dangerous; Levi is dangerous, Eren is dangerous to Levi. But he is more dangerous to Eren than Eren is to him, he reminded himself. 

“Prove it,” said Eren, “prove you’re as evil as you say.”

Levi allowed himself to look into the ocean in Eren’s eyes. A storm brewed on the horizon; a thunderstorm that gathered on the edge of darkness, in the darkest moment before morning. Eren meant it. 

Okay, then. Levi would prove it. He got up, refused to throw Eren a glance, and walked briskly up the stairs. His work boots and feet seemed oddly light--like his head. 

Light resolve. How ironic. Floating, dizzying, unreal, resolve. Up, and up, and up the stairs, to the desk made of fake oak, to the desk with three stains from the condensation of glasses long since filled with bourbon and ice. 

The second drawer from the top, on the right. He opened it, and held the revolver firmly in his right hand. Six chambers. Six bullets from the box that he stored right next to the revolver. 

Snap. He clicked the chamber back into place, and felt the trigger with his forefinger. 

He lingered a little longer than was necessary, with the hope that it would mess with Eren’s head. 

Love is psychological warfare, he thought. But who had said anything about love? Right. He had, and that was the problem. That he had not only thought about love, but felt love for the second time in his regrettably long twenty-five years of age. And it was time to end it here. For Eren’s sake, for Petra’s sake, for his own sake. 

He descended slowly, placing each of his relatively small feet in front of the other, down the stairs, into the warmth of the half darkness. 

Eren came into view almost all too soon. He felt the revolver that was in his jacket pocket; it welcomed him, it reminded him of what he had to do. 

He lowered his voice dangerously. “Tell me, Eren Jaeger. Do you really want me to prove what I am?” (Shit, he was breathing too hard; talking too fast, Eren wouldn’t believe this)

He waited for an answer, and casually pulled the revolver out of his pocket. 

Eren did not reply. He sensed that there was no right answer; that Eren had gone too far, and now he would pay for it in the worst of ways. 

“Nothing to say now? Shit, I thought you were more determined than that.” And still, Eren remained unmoving and unspeaking, until Levi walked purposefully towards the storage closet that held Armin. 

Now, Eren understood. “No!” he cried out, stumbling over words and thoughts, as his teeth feebly grated against each other. 

Levi ignored him, opened the closet, and grabbed Armin by the scruff of his neck. The boy hung at the end of Levi’s hand. His face was not fearful; it was simple acceptance, and, terrifyingly, apathy for whatever would happen next. Armin was exhausted in every way: exhausted from being afraid. And so he was no longer afraid. 

Eren, though, had quite an opposite reaction. “Stop! That’s not fair, please. I didn’t mean it like that; I didn’t think you’d hurt Armin!”

Levi smiled wryly. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m hurting you. And Eren, you wouldn’t believe me otherwise.” 

“Please! Prove it to me, not to him!”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. If I physically hurt you, which I am more than capable of, all I would do is convince Armin that I’m even eviller than he had thought. But, you see--” he tapped the barrel of the revolver against Armin’s head, “Armin doesn’t doubt that I will pull this trigger if it benefits me in any way. But how will I prove it to you if you don’t witness it?”

At this, Armin stirred. He turned towards Levi, and said quietly, “I don’t want to die.” It was not a request, nor a plea. It was just his expression of preference, and that made Levi vaguely recoil. He recognized that emotion, and he recognized that exhaustion predominant on Armin's face. 

He didn’t have it in him to kill Armin; he had known that even before he had gotten the revolver from his desk upstairs. He just hoped that this would work. He thought it would; he had been under gunpoint before, and understood what it did to a person. 

Even though Armin had said this was necessary. Had said the risk was necessary, too. 

That was where Eren would come in. 

“I know, kid,” he said slightly, “Nobody really does want it. And people who think they do, don’t. They just want to live better. I’ve been under a gun enough times to know that.” And he dropped Armin to the ground at his feet. Eren’s eyes were still wide, calculating, and fearful, trying to decipher what Levi’s next action would be. 

“Here’s my proof, brat.” He opened the chamber of the revolver and emptied five of the six chambers. He snapped the chamber back in place, and spun. The sole noise in the room was the strangely lazy spinning of the revolver’s chamber. It lingered, as if the sound bounced off the sides of the room and reverberated into silence. 

He stuffed it back in his pocket, for safe keeping, and stepped over Armin. He approached Eren, brandished a knife from his other pocket, and reached for where Eren’s hands were tied tightly behind his back. Knife between his teeth, he successfully unraveled most of the knots until he came to the final one that was too tight for him to do so. Finally, the strand of rope gave, and Levi granted Eren a moment to stretch out his stiff arms and fingers. 

“Ready?”

“For what?” Eren’s confusion made Levi feel slightly more relaxed.

“For proof. So, listen. There are six chambers in this revolver, brat. There is one bullet. Now, spin it.” He held out the revolver so Eren could obey the order. 

“Good. Now, you’re gonna take this gun and make a choice.”

“What?”

“Here’s the deal. You shoot me or Armin with that little gun, or I knife him, and then you. And you and I both know that I don’t really want to do that. After all, he said he wanted to live.”

“But--I--”

 

“What?” deadpanned Levi, “You can’t? You don’t wanna? Well, too fucking bad.”

“But, you don’t wanna either.” 

“Don’t have time for this, kid.” He pulled Armin to his feet beside Levi, and held his knife to his neck. “You got one minute.”

Eren’s hands trembled. He looked forward at Levi’s face, and thought of the single bullet, waiting in the chamber, waiting to kill. He felt sick. He couldn’t kill Armin--or risk killing him, either, and that meant that he had to shoot Levi. But I couldn’t do that either. 

No way out. No way out. No way out. 

“Thirty seconds, kid.” Eren didn’t know how Levi could make his face look so nonchalant if he was facing death. Besides, he had said that no one really wants to die, not truly. 

Levi gripped the knife tighter, closer, to Armin’s neck. The blond had no response; in fact, Armin refused to look at him. 

Eren aimed the gun in front of him.

No way out. No way out--

But there was. There was no real choice to make; this was a choice made for him. There was only one thing to be done, and so he simply had to do it. 

He steadied his heartbeat, steadied his trembling fingers, and let out a shaky breath. 

In one fluid motion, he cocked the gun, drew it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. 

The gun slipped out of his sweaty hands. It had been empty. He collapsed completely at the floor. 

Levi stared at Eren’s closed eyes, released Armin slowly to the floor, and picked up the gun that Eren had dropped. 

He fought his urge to be irrevocably sick, right there on the basement floor. 

Levi hadn’t been afraid to die. So why was his heart beating like he had run for miles? Why was his heart beating, and his neck sweating, and his blood pounding in his ears? He turned away in disgust and ran up the stairs, his pulse beating through his fingertips. 

Armin crawled across the floor and clutched at the piece of paper that Levi had discarded. He squinted in the half-light, and read the title. 

The Ocean In His Eyes. 

A tear trickled out his eye. But he couldn’t bring himself to go to Eren; to tell Eren that all that and more would be necessary to keep them alive. 

But Levi loved the Ocean in His Eyes. 

The Ocean in His Eyes.   
Gone are the days of over-rhymed lascivious and molasses words,   
Gone are the days when I curled up too close to the fire.   
Gone are the days when I stared too long at the sun,   
And gone are the days of avoided pronouns in my love poems  
Because he whom I loved was more ashamed than I;   
But those are days of which I do not wish to speak, nor cry. 

I want to look into your ocean eyes,   
I want to look into your stormy, guilt-ridden, iceberg, hurricane eyes,   
And to smile with a promise that the sun will rise.


	25. Fate's Cruelty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin is cruel, but fate is crueler.

The other three had drifted off into sleep. Sasha was snoring lightly, Connie was muttering in his sleep, and Ymir’s eyes twitched underneath their closed lids. Christa wondered what her lover was dreaming about. 

It might have been early in the morning, not quite yet dawn. Perhaps three o’clock. But Christa didn’t really care, nor did she really want to know. She didn’t know how much time they had left. 

She felt restless. Bored. Terrified. Her arm itched from the inside out. Erwin was going to kill Ymir, and it was because of her. She drew closer to Ymir, and spent a moment revelling in Ymir’s warm body pressed against hers before she came to a simple conclusion. 

Without Ymir by her side, Christa did not want to live. It was struggle enough with Ymir by her side, and she didn’t know if she could survive any other way. 

Christa had to tell Erwin that Ymir wasn’t telling the truth. She knew that Ymir would die before revealing the truth; she planned on dying, actually. 

Christa’s eyes filled with tears, and she burrowed closer to Ymir, still marveling at how warm--and oh, how beautiful--Ymir was. She clutched at Ymir’s arm, almost unconsciously, but stopped herself, fearing that she would wake up Ymir. 

She strained to listen, and heard faint but careful footsteps. Erwin had been pacing outside the room through the night. She wondered what he was considering, but realized that she didn’t really care. 

Christa summoned her courage. But the moment she went to move, it vanished. She chastised herself cruelly, and forced her knees to carefully crawl away from her personal furnace. 

“Christa!” cried Sasha. Terrified, Christa whipped her head towards Sasha. Sasha’s eyes were closed, though. It must have been a dream. 

Ymir shifted in her sleep in response to hearing Christa’s name. Looking back plaintively, Christa nevertheless continued on to the door. She knew that Erwin kept it locked, but she tried the door anyway. 

Now--how to get his attention, quietly, without waking them. 

Fortune was on her side. Erwin had rigged an alert to the door; he had an apparatus that buzzed when the door knob was turned. 

But Christa had no such explanation as to why Erwin’s footsteps quickly approached. She drew away from the door, and waited, hugging her knees together. When she heard Erwin’s hand on the door, she struggled to balance on her feet. Erwin’s face met hers at the door and Christa desperately gestured for him to be quiet, brandishing her index finger over her lips. 

“Please. I can’t wake them. I need to talk to you.” 

“If this is a trick--,” threatened Erwin. 

“It’s not,” assured Christa in a whispery voice. “Believe me, it’s not.”

“Then, come with me,” murmured Erwin equally quietly. He pulled Christa into the main house. She restrained herself from making any noise, but her eyes widened. 

She hadn’t considered how to tell him. How could she make him believe the truth? 

Erwin half-dragged her, half-marched her to his living room. 

“Sit,” he hissed, “and start explaining.”

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t formulate the words; she shaped her lips to say, “My name is Christa Lenz,” but she couldn’t. 

She opened her mouth and closed it, trying to relax. It was to no avail. Almost unconsciously, forgetting Erwin was there, she drew her bound hands to her lips, and bit on her arm. Pain clouded her eyes, and replaced her confusion with mild determination. 

She removed her arm from her mouth, and finally brought herself to look into Erwin’s eyes. 

In an instant she saw that he was terrified. 

He had risen up from the couch across from her, something close to desperation in his eyes. “No!” he said, involuntarily. But he calmed himself, and kept himself from reaching across the distance that separated them. 

Christa retracted into herself, drawing her small knees towards her chest, expecting some form of attack from Erwin. 

But he didn’t. His voice softened to a firm reprisal. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I know you don’t believe that.” 

He cursed himself, and said softly, “I’m going to untie your hands, okay?” 

Christa nodded, unsure of what to do. She was quiet, and calm, but felt anything but.  
******  
Erwin looked at the girl in front of him. She was blond, with thin and wavy hair, and with enormously blue, kind eyes. She could not have been more than five feet tall, and although he knew her to be older, she looked only thirteen or so. 

And she was terrified. He couldn’t blame her. But when she had brought her arm to her mouth, as if out of grueling habit, and bit down until blood gathered at the corners of her lips--

It was Erwin’s turn to be terrified. 

He had cried for her to stop almost involuntarily; he had seen in the look in her eyes and he had recognized it all too well. 

He had reassured her that he wouldn’t hurt her, and had reached to untie her hands. 

“Historia, right? Your name’s Historia Reiss?” He asked the question simply to connect with her, to try, in some way, to help her better than how he had helped Levi. 

The girl oddly hesitated, before shaking her head. Her voice was small when she contradicted him. “No, you see. That’s the problem. My name’s Christa Lenz. Ymir--she’s my girlfriend--she lied to you.”

She fidgeted in her seat and picked at her arm. 

“Fuck,” said Erwin, and he sat back down listlessly on the couch. They sat like that for a moment before Erwin looked at Christa again. 

“Can you show me your arms?”

“No,” said Christa. “I don’t think it matters anymore,” she said, more confidently. 

Erwin didn’t think he had ever hated anyone more than he hated himself in that instant. 

“Let me help you,” he said softly, “I’m a doctor.”

But when he spoke, he was no longer speaking to Christa. He was speaking to Levi, the fifteen-year-old whose life he had saved just years prior. He was speaking to Levi, pleading with him, to get help for himself; to stop cutting and to stop shooting up. So he wouldn’t hurt anymore. 

“Piss off,” Levi had said. It hadn’t hurt Erwin at the time; Levi had been high. Things like that weren’t supposed to be taken personally. But it hurt Erwin now; he couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t kill someone whose eyes matched his own and whose problems matched his lover’s. His ex-lover’s.  
“Why do you want to help me,” asked Christa quietly. But her question was almost rhetorical, which was good: Erwin had no response. Christa continued, her voice hardening like winter’s first frost hardens over a thin pool of water. “So you can make me better just before you kill me as publicly as possible?”

“Because I’m weak. I suppose you deserve an explanation,” he replied, defeated. “Do you want to know? This is not my story to tell. But I believe he wouldn’t mind.” 

Christa nodded slowly. “He?” she asked. 

Erwin sighed and began his story. “Yes. He. Perhaps the only person in this world that I have ever loved.” 

Christa’s eyes widened; he ignored it, becoming entranced in the memories that he allowed himself to examine. 

“I graduated from high school a year early, when I was just turned seventeen. I was in my second year of college when this happened, so I couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. I was taking outside of school healthcare classes, and majoring in biology. Long story short, I was trying really hard to save money, to get my life together, and in the end become a doctor. It was late at night when I came home from one of my classes, I’d guess about eleven Anyway, the normal subway route I took was closed for maintenance, so I walked home that night. 

I didn’t know that the path I was taking led me through what could be called the shady part of town: the kind that made me feel lucky but uncomfortable. Well, I was walking down an alleyway past an apartment complex when I heard a scream for help. 

There was no one else around, and I was frankly terrified. I thought someone might be attacking her: and there was no way I could guarantee that I wouldn’t get hurt if I helped. But I didn’t really think about it; I could hear her sobbing and crying something unintelligable, althewhile calling for help.

So, I followed the voice. I ran up a set of stairs to get to her; I wasn’t thinking straight and I had no idea what I would find. 

I ran into an apartment. The door was open, which was fortunate, but I couldn’t tell why the door was open. What I saw behind the door was an old woman crouched over a slumped form. I could see that there was blood, and I called an ambulance and ran to the body. 

I told the woman I was a doctor, and so she let me look at the boy that was slumped on the floor. He had heroin tracks in his arms; he was exhibiting symptoms of an overdose. But that wasn’t the main problem. He had slit his wrists. 

I was looking at this boy in front of me: he was so small, so frail. Not fully grown; just a little bit taller than you.. He was so pale, and cold. 

And I figured that this thirteen-year-old kid had overdosed on drugs, and when he realized that he didn’t have quite enough in his system to kill him, he slit his own wrists and tried to bleed to death. 

I don’t remember what I did, how, why, or when the ambulance came. But I went with the old woman in the ambulance when it did came, and I think before it did I tried to do something to stop the bleeding. 

While we were waiting for the boy’s condition in the hospital, I talked to the woman. She told me that she was the boy’s grandmother, and his only surviving family. 

It’s funny, actually,” he added, “Levi always tells people that he left his mother to find his body. But that’s a lie. His mother had died two years before that.”

Christa looked nothing short of shocked. She didn’t know why someone would lie about their mother being dead or not. 

“I’m not suicidal, you know,” she added gently. 

“I don’t know,” said Erwin, “but it doesn’t matter. You see, Levi tried to commit suicide. He failed. But it took him another eight years to stop cutting. And every time he would relapse--”

“I know,” said Christa. “I stopped. Ymir gave me reason to stop. But if you kill Ymir, then I have no more reason to live.” 

She didn’t say it as a threat, nor did she say it as a plea for pity. She said it as a fact. Erwin believed her. 

“So,” said Christa quietly, accepting Erwin’s silence, “You don’t know what you’re going to do. Because, and only because, you realized that the people you hurt are like the person you love.”

Erwin nodded. “I don’t expect to be forgiven for the crimes I’ve commited. I’m a bad person. But I’ve never doubted that the world I’m creating is so people like Levi can have a better place to live.”

Christa scoffed. “Maybe I’ve been hanging around Ymir too much, but that’s bullshit.”

“I know,” said Erwin calmly. “And so is cutting yourself.” 

“As if I don’t know that,” said Christa. 

“I don’t think I can go through with this. But it’s too late for me,” said Erwin. 

But not for Levi. Levi could still get out. And maybe, maybe after all of this…

No. 

Fate is not that kind.


	26. If You Go Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Annie does not sleep, and plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry I wasn't that happy with this chapter; i got writers block, but here goes.

Annie was used to sleeping during strange hours, and had taught herself to fall asleep quickly. Her choice of being on call for nursing had required her to quickly rearrange her sleep schedule, so she wasn’t unaccustomed to it. However, long after Mikasa had fallen asleep, her delicate head balanced on Annie’s lap, Annie could not sleep. 

She had long ago shut off the world from her emotions; oh, and she had gotten so desperately good at watching life go by through her cold, calculating, and ever analytical eyes. But she couldn’t not feel, not today. 

She nevertheless feared her own growing obsession. A heart restricted from emotions for so long immediately plunges back into its old habits, and although she had thought it necessary that she confess to Mikasa about her infatuation, but, frankly, 

What now? 

She had always thought about other things, other than love. She had thought about work, she had thought about education, and about keeping her hapless older brother out of serious trouble. (Although if she was honest, he could probably handle that on his own.)

She had prepared for the fact that her closest family would be her brother and his family. She had been so certain that she would never fall in love. And she had very little desire to fall in love…

She had never thought about a kiss, let alone a returned one. To her, that kiss was a promise. And she wasn’t sure what to think of it, other than that the girl sleeping on her lap was fucking beautiful. 

Annie looked down at Mikasa, again, and a realization came to her. She had been living inside her head, a storybook, ever since she met Mikasa. Somehow, things had worked out--but there was so much more to get through first. There was no way of knowing that things would still work out. And after they found Eren, would Mikasa still care? 

She resolved to stay awake and consider what they knew. Her priority was, after all, to get back the hostages. For Mikasa. But also for herself, because once Annie started something, she didn’t back down. 

Her thoughts were scrambled, though, which was unaided by the presence of Mikasa’s short but alluring hair on her lap. Had she been certain that Mikasa would not wake, Annie would have run her fingers through it. But Mikasa was a light sleeper: Annie had noted that at the hospital, and so she made herself calm down, collect herself, and stop thinking solely about Mikasa. 

She consciously slowed down her heartbeat and breathing. Unconsciously, she mirrored the pulse and breathing of Mikasa, and she felt her muscles begin to relax.   
Her mind remained active, though, and she began to think. She thought about her uncle’s involvement, and about Hanji Zoe and her mysterious partner, Mike, and about Levi and whomever it seemed Levi was talking with on the other end of the line. Unsurprisingly, it seemed that there were others involved. No small number, either. But it seemed nearly impossible to decipher where to go next: which lead to follow. 

She stood by her analysis that the majority of the kidnapped students remained inside the city. Logically, road blocks were put into effect extremely quickly, which meant that any large scale transportation would have been unrealistic. 

This led her to the assumption that they were either being stored together in a hidden but central location, or had been split up. 

She shook her head at herself. She was missing something; she had to be missing something. And what exactly was Erwin’s role? Should she search his apartment? Confront him? (Certainly not, that would endanger the hostages.) Hanji knew who she was. That meant that it was almost certain that Erwin knew that she was involved, too: and not on his side. 

She had to find out. There wasn’t anything on his phone except Hanji’s number, trapped in his “recent call” folder. It seemed that he had no other contacts: it had been carefully cleaned. She realized now--what she had assumed was just his meticulous nature, was actually his careful steps to cover his tracks.

But he had made an error in not clearing his recent calls frequently enough. Hanji’s number had been sloppiness--

Erwin. Erwin Smith, a terrorist? A kidnapper? An uncle. Perhaps the only way to find out how deeply entrenched he was in this organization was to ask him herself. 

“Where are you?” murmured Mikasa. Annie realized that the girl was still sleeping; it wasn’t uncommon for Mikasa to speak, surprisingly coherently, in her sleep.

“Eren, no, Eren, Eren. Levi,” she took a gasp for breath, her voice raising louder and louder, “Annie!” 

Mikasa woke herself up with a start and looked around incredulously. 

“Oh,” she murmured, relaxing once she noted Annie’s presence, “How long have I been asleep?”

Annie shrugged, adding, “Just a few hours.” Mikasa moved her head off Annie’s lap. Annie immediately felt her legs go cold, and feeling slowly returned to them. 

She hadn’t realized how heavy Mikasa’s head had been until it left. It had seemed fine and normal why Mikasa had rested--but now Annie’s legs were sore, and she felt the need to stretch them. 

As Annie got up to walk around the room, Mikasa stretched her arms and soldiers, yawning slightly. 

“You can sleep more if you want,” said Annie. “It would be a good idea, actually.”

“Not you?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m used to it.” That was a lie. 

“Right,” said Mikasa, raising an eyebrow. “What are you thinking about? No crap, just, like, what you’re actually thinking.”

Annie paused. “I’m thinking about Erwin, and I’m thinking about my brother, and about the girl you saw in the car, and about our kiss.”

Mikasa felt a pang of anxiety but also of excitement. 

“I’m glad to see I made it on the list. You know--Yea, never mind.”

Annie simply waited for Mikasa to say what she would have, what she was planning on initially saying. Mikasa didn’t disappoint. 

“I hope you know that if we get through this, it’s not like I’m going anywhere. I don’t know what life will be like but I want you in it. My life, that is. God, I’m awkward, sometimes.”

A hint of color painted her cheeks and Annie smiled softly again. “Thank you. I was thinking about that too.” 

They lapsed into a companionable silence, both left to their own thoughts. Mikasa thought vaguely that she should say something, or at least figure out something to say--

But Annie took care of it. 

“I think we should break into Erwin’s apartment.” 

Mikasa got up off the couch. “What?”

“It’s the only way to find out how deeply he’s entrenched in this. The Wings of Freedom, that is. We have no way of knowing if he’s just a henchman, or a strategist, or--”   
“Keep talking,” said Mikasa, “Because I’m not quite convinced.”

“He lives in a small house outside of the city. He has a girlfriend, but she usually stays in the city; she’s in college studying politics or some shit, and her name is.. God, what’s her name? Patricia? Something like that. She won’t be a problem. She’s the only person he’s ever brought to a family function. Uhh, and it would be useful to see if we can find any proof of his involvement.”

“Annie, at what point do we go to the police?”

Annie furrowed her brow. “I really don’t know. I feel like we should, but we’re already in dangerous territory. If-- I don’t know.”

“If we go to the police, then the Wings might kill Eren,” finished Mikasa. “Besides, who else in your family is involved? It could endanger them.”

Annie closed her eyes. “God. You know how you feel about Eren?” 

Mikasa nodded solemnly.

“That’s how I feel about my brother Reiner. But I think he got himself in some serious shit.” 

“That sucks,” said Mikasa. “I think we need to break into his apartment, then.” 

They both became silent, trying to figure out a course of action. After a moment, Mikasa broke the silence; she had an idea. 

“I’ll get poised by Erwin’s house. You invite Erwin to your apartment, most likely to talk about your job; throw in something to keep him there for as long as necessary; and I’ll search his house. If you’re sure that there’s no one that’s gonna be there, then it’ll be fine.”

Annie poised to object but thought better of it. She wanted to say it was dangerous. And it was dangerous. But very possibly necessary.


	27. Laundry Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone opens Erwin's laundry room. And it's not Erwin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i said I was going to take a break  
> but apparently that was all i needed to find inspiration again  
> so here you go :D  
> thanks everyone for reading.

“Repeat his address to me. I need to double check.”

Annie did as requested, and Mikasa confirmed. “Erwin’s car is still in his driveway. He’s meeting you in twenty minutes, right?” 

“Yes. Lay low until he leaves.” 

Mikasa laughed slightly. 

“I mean it,” replied Annie crossly. “Don’t--” 

“Annie--Annie, I get it. It’s just, I’m not used to being the one fussed over. God you sound like me when I nag Eren.” 

“Oh,” said Annie. “But still.”

“I know,” said Mikasa. “I’ll text you when he leaves.” And she hung up. 

Erwin left the house in a flurry of motion just ten minutes before he was due to meet with Annie. When Mikasa sent the text to warn Annie, the girl was surprised that he left so late and in such a hurry. Erwin was never one to rush his appointments, and he was always on time. 

Mikasa waited a few minutes before approaching the house. As Annie had told her, there was no security system or cameras: Erwin was private, and although he almost assuredly was paranoid about break-ins, Mikasa figured that it was too much to risk when he himself was most likely involved in illegal activities. 

Mikasa approached the house from the side. She pulled on her gloves and approached the front door. As predicted, and as she had seen, the front door was locked; she would have been disturbed had it been otherwise. 

But she remembered Annie’s instructions, and so walked steadfastly to the automatic garage. The door was closed, but a side panel indicated that it could be opened with the password. Eight blank spaces, for eight numbers. She nonchalantly glanced at her phone, looking at the five numbers that Annie had told her to try. 

She tried the first one. “This is Petra’s birthday,” she could hear Annie tell her in her memory, “and it would make sense for Erwin to choose it.” 

12-06-2006

The panel flashed red. Wrong passcode.   
Annie had hesitated, thinking carefully before writing the second number down--Mikasa recalled this all too well. “Erwin never went to family functions on Christmas Day. He would have this broad smile, and murmur something about having plans. It’s vague, but we’ll try Christmas.”

12-25-0000

It didn’t work. But there were four more numbers on the list, thought Mikasa. And if those four didn’t work, then they could go to plan B--

But she felt acutely that they were running out of time. 

12-25-2027

Mikasa did not know why Annie had chosen 2027 as the last four digits. But she had had a gleam in her eye--

It flashed green briefly and the large garage door crawled open. 

Mikasa admittedly had more respect for both the number 2027 and Annie’s powers of observation. It was fascinating how she had managed to guess an eight number passcode--

But frankly, she had no such time for such thoughts. She did her best to look normal when entering in through the garage: in case prying neighbors noticed her presence, but it was difficult for her not to wheel around, searching for conspicuous glances. 

She closed the door as soon as she turned on the light. It was dim, and her eyes took a while to adjust. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. There was a door that opened directly into the main house, and an adjacent laundry room. 

She clasped the doorknob of the door that opened into the main house--but her heart stopped to find that it was locked. 

That hadn’t been expected. Who even locked the inside door? 

Erwin Smith did, apparently. 

She turned away from that door and turned towards the laundry room door. She surveyed the door, and found that it looked rather unusual. 

There was something attached to the doorknob itself, something that had an on/off switch--almost as if it set off some sort of alarm if it detected motion of the door. 

That was it, she realized. It was a motion detector devised to trigger if the door was opened. Odd.

Her suspicions continued when she found that the door locked from the outside. It was a weak lock, only one of those push-in ones that can be unlocked by simply turning the handle from the outside, but nevertheless struck her as unusual. 

She examined the mechanism on the doorknob, and became surer than ever that it was a motion detector. She hoped that simply turning it off would do the desired trick, but still felt a pang of apprehension when she reached her gloved hands forward to do so. 

The flashing light next to the on/off switch abruptly powered off, and Mikasa hoped that the problem was solved. She sighed inwardly before putting her hand around the doorknob: she hoped that by some miracle, the laundry room would connect to the main house. Otherwise, she would have a hard time getting in at all, and she couldn’t call Annie for advice--Erwin was probably already at the apartment. 

She opened the door slowly, and found the room shrouded in darkness. She fumbled for a light switch, but found none, so she stepped back out and held the door open, hoping that the dim garage light would illuminate the darkened room. 

Clearly, her eyes had not yet adjusted well enough to see, and so she cursed slightly at her own incompetency. She stepped back into the room and finally managed to find a light switch. She blinked suddenly--the light that came on was intrusively bright. 

“Mikasa?”

In a deft motion, she wheeled towards the voice, slipping her concealed knife from her boot and brandishing it before her. As she gathered her wits, she realized that the voice that called her name was small, scared, and familiar. 

Her eyes fell upon the speaker, and her heart jumped to her mouth. 

“Christa,” she breathed. “You’re okay.”

Ymir, who had been slouching beside Christa, sharply sat up and fixed her alert eyes on Mikasa. 

“Mikasa, you need to get Christa the fuck outta here, right now.”

Christa trembled softly, but before she gathered the strength to intervene, Sasha quietly interrupted. 

“Did you find anyone else?”

“You’re the first,” replied Mikasa. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” By this time, she had knelt beside Christa and she began to saw through the rope. 

“You’re being kept here by Erwin, right? Tall, blond--”

“Yes,” replied Sasha. No other explanation could e composed. 

“This is no time to be talking!” cried Ymir in frustration. “Christa’s in danger.” 

“You all are,” replied Mikasa. 

Sasha countered Ymir’s previous statement, arguing, “I think you’re in greater danger, Ymir, given what you told Erwin.”

“I don’t care. We still don’t know when Erwin will come back.”

“Calm down,” ordered Mikasa. “Ymir, you’re strong, and I need you to act like it.” She left no room for argument. “Besides, we actually do know when Erwin will return. My--there’s someone with him.”

None of her friends commented on the vaguery of her statement. She had been going to say girlfriend. But she stopped. Girlfriend didn’t seem fitting, not for Annie. Besides, that would be complicated enough to explain later. 

The group had fallen silent. She broke through Christa’s rope, and handed her the knife. 

“Start with Connie,” she ordered. She was afraid that if Christa freed Ymir first, Ymir would insist that they escape alone. 

“I’m calling the police,” said Mikasa. 

She dialed 9-1-1, and immediately thought of an explanation for her behavior. 

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

She started off with the address. “Get here immediately! Please help!” Her voice sounded fake even to herself, and the officer insisted:

“Ma’am, I’m going to need to to calm down and tell me what happened.” 

“I’m at the home of my friend’s uncle and I found four teenagers locked in the laundry room! Get here immediately! They’re from the school that got bombed a few weeks ago!” 

“Okay, a squad is on its way. Is anyone injured?”

Mikasa glanced around her. “No, no one’s injured. I’m just worried Erwin will get back.” 

The operator began to ask her questions, but she let the phone slip away from her ear. She hung up. She had done what was necessary. Help would come. 

But would Erwin’s discovery lead to the rest of the Wings of Freedom to go deeper into hiding?

She checked her text messages, and was relieved to find none. Almost forty minutes had passed, but Annie apparently was doing well with Erwin; there was no indication of his impending arrival. 

However, it was just a moment later when one arrived: “Just left,” it read. 

“Shit,” she muttered. She was hoping, unrealistically, for a little more time. 

“Out of time!” By this time, Connie was untying Sasha, and Christa was working on Ymir. 

But her worries were assuaged by the sound of a police siren in the distance. 

“Listen. I have to go. Someone very close to me needs to hear from me now. Tell the police that you didn’t see my face. They’ll find out it was me eventually, but I need some time. Please help me.”

They immediately nodded, nothing that Mikasa only spoke when necessary. 

But Christa was not so confident. “Don’t leave us, please,” she murmured. 

Mikasa shook her head. “I’m sorry. I would stay if I could.”

And with that, she opened the garage door and, as calmly as she could muster, walked down the sidewalk of the cul de sac. 

She could hear the sirens approaching, and was glad. She watched the cul de sac from a side street where she had stashed her get-away bicycle (Annie had come up with that brilliant idea; it was less conspicuous than a car). She watched carefully which cars drove by, looking for Erwin’s in case he preceded the police. 

Her heart stopped a moment when she saw his car approaching, perhaps 100 feet away--now 80--

The police needed just a bit more time. She stepped out of the side street, and hailed Erwin’s car. She waved brightly, trying her best to act as if she were cheerful, and meeting a friend that she had not seen in a while. 

He pulled to the side of the road, a puzzled expression on his face. 

“Do I know you?” he asked, rather formally. 

“Don’t you remember?” asked Mikasa, a brilliant smile on her face. 

Erwin cocked a brow, as if to say that he had no idea, and to please enlighten him. 

“Goodness I’m sorry to bother you!” She fake laughed, “I think I recognize you from the hospital! I just wanted to see if it really was you. Dr. Smith, right?”

“I do work at the hospital,” he acknowledged. His eyes calculated, as if he was searching his memory for who she was. 

She saw the police car turn the corner of the street. Erwin’s eyes flashed to his rearview mirror, and Mikasa fancied that she detected fear in them. But strangely enough, Erwin didn’t look nearly as phased as she would have expected, and instead he smiled at her. 

“Sorry, I don’t seem to remember who you are,” he lied. His lips were curved into a patronizing expression that sent a pang of disgust to Mikasa’s gut. But she made herself smile back, and returned, “Sorry to bother you. I’ll be off.” 

She cringed at her own failure to act, but she recognized that she did what was necessary. The rest was up to the police. She turned back to the street where she and Annie had stashed a bicycle--not exactly the get-away-vehicle of choice, but it would do--and she planned her course back to Annie’s apartment. 

She pedaled as fast as she could, and dialed Annie. For some reason, the latter didn’t pick up, and Mikasa immediately became worried. 

But she told herself to relax; she was still reeling from the day’s events, and she wasn’t used to worrying about anyone other than Eren and Armin. It was odd. 

She locked the bike at the front of the apartment complex, and entered the building. 

The stairs were a welcome change from the rapidly cooling late-fall weather, but they smelled musty. She jogged up them anyway, two at a time, until she reached the floor that Annie’s apartment was on. 

Annie opened the door after Mikasa knocked twice, and Mikasa was no longer sure that she had done the right thing. 

“What did you find?” asked Annie, reading from Mikasa’s face remnants of emotion that were interwoven into her normally calm features. 

Mikasas explicitly ignored Annie’s step towards her, and stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind her. 

“There wasn't any time to consider if I did the right thing. But Annie, Erwin’s involved. Very involved. Turn on the news. I want to see what happened. I’ll explain if the news doesn’t.” 

Annie moved to turn on the television, an old flat screen that was a remnant of a time before the early 2020s, when most people switched to surround systems. 

She flicked it on, and the heading “Breaking News” flashed on the screen, warning Mikasa of what was to come. 

The subheading: “Four Kidnapped Teens Found.”

“An anonymous 911 caller called at 2:15 pm today, from home in the outskirts of New York. Greg, what can you tell us about the scene?”

The camera switched to a reporter who was standing just outside Erwin’s house. 

“The caller had found four of the thirteen missing teenagers from the conservatory bombing in October. Fortunately all four were unharmed, and it appears that they’ll be reunited with their parents and families shortly. None of the names were released because of the ages of the victims.”

“And Greg, can you tell us a little bit about the house you’re in front of?”

“Yes, as you can see, I’m standing in front of a small house on the outskirts of New York. This is the home of a certain Doctor Erwin Smith, a medical worker who was involved in the care of a number of patients injured as a result of the bombing. The police are searching for Smith, who has been described as possibly armed and dangerous--”

Annie turned away from the television, walked to her front door, and locked it. 

“He was on the street when the police got there,” murmured Mikasa. 

“I’m afraid this puts Eren in danger; but I couldn’t--I couldn’t just leave them there,” she continued. 

Mikasa turned her face away from Anie and silently cursed a tear that escaped her eye. 

Annie reached forward, surprisingly tentatively, and put her hand on Mikasa’s shoulder. 

“Don’t doubt yourself,” she said. “You saved four people you care about. Maybe not as much as you care about Eren, but I’m proud of you. You did what you could have. And we’ll keep Eren safe.” 

“But Erwin--”

“He’s my uncle,” said Annie, “but that hardly means that I condone his actions. He took Eren, he took these four people--he deserves to be on the run.”

Mikasa turned and drew Annie into her arms. 

“Thank you,” Mikasa said. “I--” 

Annie shook her head as if to say, “Don’t speak.”

And so Mikasa didn’t.


	28. Wait for it...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon, all will be explained.

“Hanji,” he gasped into the phone. “Set off my house. Set it off now, before they find anything.”

“Erwin-- why do you sound like you’re running?”

“Hanji. Do it, for Christ’s sake. Do it now.” His voice was forceful, desperate; hardly the calm front that Hanji had grown to rely on. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And Hanji?”

“Yes?”

“This was no accident. Annie could come for you, and she will without hesitation. She’s working with someone. Take them down if you have the opportunity, because they will not show mercy.”

“Who is she working with?”

“I have a pretty good idea of who it is. But I need to confirm something. Follow my orders, and hand the phone to Mike. He’ll tell you the rest.”

“Erwin.” Mike’s voice was deep and confident: oft had it been compared to Erwin’s himself, actually. 

“Mike, when you and Hani went to the park to meet Annie, did you see anyone around?” 

Erwin counted on Mike’s nearly photographic memory, and he was not disappointed: 

“Yes,” said Mike. “A pair of elderly ladies walked by, one man wearing a baseball cap, one jogger, and one girl who stopped me and asked for directions.” 

“Any of them suspicious?” 

“The girl, slightly. She seemed friendly but something was off, now that you mention it.” 

“Short black hair, with dark, almost violet shaded eyes, and a scar on her lip?” 

“Yes,” said Mike. “She said her name was Mica, and she seemed polite and just a little bit overly interested as to why I was there. I made up a half-truth about Hanji being my girlfriend, talking to an estranged sister--it seemed legitimate at the time, but I realize that she might have known Annie---”

“Mikasa Ackerman,” said Erwin. “Her name is Mikasa Ackerman, not exactly mica. She was a bombing victim, that’s how she got the scar on her lip. Consider her--hmm. Consider it as if Levi decided to take us down. Consider her extremely dangerous.”

“Yes,” Mike agreed. 

Erwin ended the call. 

******  
He arrived at Levi’s doorstep like it was a habit he had never broken. He arrived at Levi’s doorstep as if he quite literally was stranded, and needed a home. 

Levi opened the door after the second knock. 

“Did you watch the news?” asked Erwin immediately. 

Levi shook his head and allowed Erwin to walk past him. “I’ve had other stuff to do,” he replied. 

“Like?”

“Like cleaning up shit,” said Levi vaguely. He left off what he was thinking, (cleaning up shit so it no longer smells like you.)

Erwin hesitated. 

“Well, spit it the fuck out,” cursed Levi. “I’ve better things to do that to watch you stand there.” 

“I just gave Hanji the order to set off the bombs in my house. I already gave my remote permission for it, too.”

Levi’s face remained impassive despite his surprise. “Explain from the beginning.”

“Annie invited me to her house to discuss her job--you know how she quit so suddenly just the other day--”

“Annie’s full of shit. Did you seriously buy that?”

“Yes. I did. She’s family.” 

“Tchh,” said Levi, “ I thought you were smarter than that. Besides, Annie never takes back anything she says or does. I respect that much about her. Continue.”

“While I was away for forty-five or so minutes, someone let themselves into my house, and--” 

“You mean they broke in?”

“Not exactly. If so, they did it seamlessly; the garage door was open which means that they had the eight-digit passcode.” 

Levi had no response, so Erwin continued: “And, I haven’t told anyone the passcode. Not even you, or Petra, or my closest friends.”

“Hmm,” said Levi. “Any suspects?”

“Well, I was with Annie. But I think she’s working with someone, and it would make sense if it was them.”

“No shit,” said Levi. 

“Actually, it’s a little surprising. I didn’t think Annie had any friends.”

“Could itta been Reiner?” 

“No. I know who it is, actually. It’s a girl that I saw on the street, just moments before the police got there. She was the patient Annie looked after before she quit. I knew I recognized her from somewhere but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“Stop trying to make me curious,” said Levi. “You’ve got my attention, so stop trying so fucking hard.”

Erwin didn’t respond to Levi’s jab, other than furrowing his brow slightly. He continued. “Her name is Mikasa Ackerman. It took me a while; I nearly forgot her name, but--I’m sure of it. Her name is Mikasa Ackerman. And it’s odd--she has your last name.”

Levi focused on keeping his expression neutral. “She found all four of them?”

“Yes.”

“Including the rich one? Christa Lenz?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you look relieved?” asked Levi. 

“Awfully perceptive for you, Levi,” replied Erwin scathingly. 

“Wow, look what being sober does, Erwin,” Levi bit back. “Funny, now that I don’t have a reason to drink.”

Erwin’s expression turned serious. “I’m proud of you, Levi. Really, really proud.”

 

“Yea,” said Levi, noncommittally. “But, you see, you don’t really have any right to be.” 

Erwin didn’t respond. 

“Why did you come here,” said Levi, “it’s dangerous. If the police are searching for you, which they are, they’ll find out my address. They’ll find out who I am, and they’ll find me next, and then you won’t get anything out of this fucking affair.”

“That’s true,” said Erwin. “Do you have any tea?”

“No,” said Levi. 

“You always have tea, Levi.”

“Not today,” said Levi abruptly. (Not for you, Erwin.) He turned around and walked to the hall, as if his departure would make Erwin simply disappear.

Levi went to turn back to face Erwin, about to say, “Why are you staying here?” (Why won’t you leave already), but the words died on his lips because in the time that Levi had taken to walk past Erwin, Erwin had drawn a revolver from his jacket pocket. He held it carefully, delicately, in front of him in a manner that seemed ill suited to his tall stature. 

“Christ,” said Levi softly, “Now you want to kill me, Erwin? Put it down.”

“Listen,” said Erwin, “and listen carefully. I’m not letting you do anything stupid. Believe me, as hard as it would be for me, I will shoot you without hesitation if I need to. So Levi, don’t try to fight me. Just follow my instructions, and don’t--don’t make a fuss.”

Levi waited, his expression overcome by an odd combination of patience and self-directed anger. 

“Okay,” he said simply. 

Erwin was disquieted by Levi’s uncharacteristic submission. He nevertheless accepted the situation, and regained control over his emotions. 

“Walk towards me, but stay back.” 

Levi put down the tea cup he had been holding, and walked slowly towards Erwin. Erwin compensated by stepping backwards, and further directed, “Walk to the basement, open the door, and walk all the way down the stairs, okay? Don’t turn around, and don’t stop walking.” 

And so Levi did, with an odd sort of emptiness in his eyes. He closed the basement door carefully behind him, and heard it lock. 

Armin’s eyes immediately locked with his. 

“It failed,” he said, conscious of the fact that Eren was listening. “I failed, and our only hope is Mikasa.”

“Armin,” said Eren, “would you mind explaining what exactly just failed?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should have told you, but--”

“Bullshit,” interrupted Levi. “Don’t apologize. We did what was necessary.”

“Eren,” continued Armin, “Levi isn’t bad. He didn’t want to do those bad things to you. I told him that he had to. There’s a reason why. We’re working together, we’re trying to get free and to help Mikasa find us while escaping Erwin--”

“Erwin-the-ex-boyfriend-Erwin?” asked Eren. 

“Yes,” said Levi, “and also Erwin-the-doctor-terrorist-Erwin.”

“Oh,” said Eren. “So what exactly are you doing here?”

“There’s good news and there’s bad news,” said Levi. “The good news is this: Mikasa is looking for you, and she found Ymir Reiss, Christa Lenz, Sasha Braus, and Connie Springer. They were the four in Erwin’s home. Also, Mikasa is working with an extremely dangerous woman named Annie. Annie is Erwin’s niece, and she was the person who stole Erwin’s phone. That means I know the phone number.”

“The bad news?” asked Eren, still oddly optomistic. 

“Erwin just locked the three of us in the basement, and he’s on the run from the police, and he might come down here at any minute and kill any of the three of us because we’re fucking liabilities.” 

“Anything else we should know?” asked Eren. 

“No,” said Levi. 

“I really hate swearing,” said Armin, “but God, are you fucking stupid?”

Levi looked up in surprise. 

“The Ocean in his Eyes,” quoted Armin. “Or should I quietly make my exit to the corner now?”

Eren looked on in confusion. “Does anyone want to explain what’s going on?”

“Not really,” said Levi and Armin. 

“What the hell does any of this have to do with the ocean?”

“Nothing,” said Armin. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Can I talk to you for a moment, little shithead?” said Levi. 

“Me?” asked Eren. 

“No,” said Levi. “In this particular instance, I was referring to the blond shithead.”

Armin smiled softly. Levi and him went to the end of the room, leaving Eren feeling lonely (considering he was the only one actually still bound, and was stuck in a remote corner). 

“Armin-fucking-Arlert, I understand you think you can say whatever you want but--”

“But what?” challenged Armin. “You may be dead by the end of the week, and you’re not going to tell him you’re falling in love with him?”

“Tchh. Exactly. I may be dead by the end of the week, but he certainly will be dead by the end of the week. So where does that leave us in the future? Besides, no one in his right mind would sustain a crush on someone who pulled a gun on them.”

“Says you? Seriously?”

“You,” Armin continued, “were in relationship with an extremely manipulative, one could even say abusive, partner, and only left him because he threatened to klill someone who grabbed your interest. He manipulated you into doing bad things--”

“No,” said Levi. “I’ll own it. I did those bad things. It wasn’t Erwin working through me, it was me. I’ve killed a man before. That wasn’t Erwin, that was me. Erwin was not a good influence on me, but I would do bad things with or without Erwin Smith.” 

Armin nodded his admission. “Does that mean I can’t tell him?”

“Tchh,” said Levi. “Mind your own business. If--and it’s a big if--he ever finds out, I want it to be me who tells him.”

They returned to their companion, and Levi laboriously began undoing the duct tape that bound Eren’s hands together. 

Levi met Eren’s eyes carefully. “I am sorry I hurt you, for what it’s worth,” he said. 

Eren simply nodded. “It’s not really okay,” he said. 

“I know,” said Levi. “Nothing about this situation is really okay. Lest of all that.” 

He finished with Eren’s bonds, and paused for a moment, using his thumb to carefully wipe a streak of blood that had surfaced near Eren’s lip. 

“I really am sorry,” he murmured again. 

“You know what you could do to make it up to me?” said Eren. 

“What,” said Levi, a little crassly. “I swear, if you try--”

“Levi. Read me one of your poems.”

“Okay,” said Levi dully, after adequate hesitation. “But my poetry book is upstairs.”

“Fortunately,” said Armin, “you dropped this scrap from your notebook. I think it’s quite good.”

As Armin said this, he pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. It was perfectly folded into sharp edges. 

“See?” he said.

“Read it!” said Eren. “Please?”

“I don’t want to,” said Levi shortly. He snatched the folded paper from Armin’s outstretched hands. 

“Don’t we have anything else to worry about?” he snapped, as Armin made no move to change the subject. 

“Levi,” said Eren, “don’t you realize that we’re simply done with feeling scared? We’ve been absolutely terrified for the past couple weeks: it’s unrelenting, it sucks. I’m just done with it. Sure Erwin could kill us on whim. But this is how we’ve been living for this time. If you dwell too much on it, you end up just wishing you’d die already. And that--yea, I don’t wanna think about that.” 

His brow had clouded over with temporary anxiety, but it cleared as he changed his focus. “Besides,” he continued, “I have faith in the police. And if they fail, there’s Mikasa.” 

Levi remained unconvinced. 

“Listen,” said Armin in a more gentle tone than Eren’s, “we did the best we could with our plan--we should tell you about that, actually, Eren--but honestly, it’ll be okay. And we’re bothering you to read your poetry because believe me, we’ve thought about trying to escape. It won’t work. We just need to pass the time.”

“It’s better this way, anyway,” agreed Eren. 

“Tchh,” complained Levi. “Why? Because you want me to get a taste of my own medicine?”

“Something like that,” said Eren vaguely. But the smile at the corners of his lips indicated that that hadn’t been quite what he meant. 

Both Eren and Armin fixed their gazes on Levi. 

“What is it, you shitheads?” 

Eren laughed. “You should read your poem! Armin sounds like he’s heard it already!”

“Well,” said Levi irritably, “if Armin is so sure it’s good, why doesn’t Armin read it?”

And Levi scathingly dropped the paper into Armin’s lap. 

Armin shook his head. “You do realize that this would irreversibly ruin the effect?” 

“What effect?” asked Eren. 

Armin laughed softly. “Eren, you do realize that Levi’s only being persnickety because this poem is a love poem, right?”

“And?” asked Eren. “He’s wrote loads of those before.”

“Written,” corrected Armin. “He’s written loads of those before.” 

Eren scoffed. Armin continued, “You realize--”

Levi brashly interrupted. “That’s enough, you fucking brat. We’re done with this discussion.” 

“Why?” said Armin innocently. “Embarrassed?”

“I’m so fucking done,” said Levi. “And why the fuck is it so dark in here?”

Armin and Eren exchanged a glance. “Uhh,” supplied Eren, “maybe because it’s your basement?”

Levi made no response. The trio lapsed into a slightly uncomfortable silence. 

Eren broke it with his question, though; a question which was remarkably perceptive given his lack of information: “What does Erwin stand to gain from this, though? Like, why would he come here, when there’s a high chance that he’d be found?” 

“Oh,” said Armin. 

Levi and Eren both looked at him abruptly. “What? Do you know why, then?”

“No,” said Armin. “I just have a feeling. Don’t want to assume.”


	29. Exclusive

“Who was it again who came up with this stupid game idea?”

“It’s not stupid,” said Eren. “And it’s called ‘Never Have I Ever.’ So c'mon, just put up five fingers and stop complaining.”

“You start, Levi,” said Armin. 

“No,” he replied. “Eren starts or I’m not playing.”

“Okay,” said Eren “Never have I ever had a girlfriend.”

“Tchh,” said Levi, complaining as he--to both of their surprises--put a finger down. “I was fifteen and trying to make someone jealous.”

Armin similarly complained, and Levi looked mildly surprised. 

“How’d you ever get a date?” he asked, scoffing. 

“Armin’s a nice person--sometimes!” protested Eren on his friend’s behalf. “He dated this girl called Mina for a while. But then--”

Armin cut him off with an angry look. 

“Armin, your turn,” said Levi. Despite his attempts to seem nonchalant, he was very obviously getting into it.

“Okay,” said Armin. “Never have I ever had a crush on a boy.”

“Fuck you, said Eren, “that was targeted.” 

Levi kept his face neutral and put a finger down. “Never have I ever been kidnapped,” he retaliated. 

“Levi--I hate to break it to you, but you kinda are right now,” said Eren. 

“Fine. Whatever.” He hesitated. “Dammit. That was my only good one.” He paused again before continuing. “Never have I ever gone to a private school.”

Eren rolled his eyes, putting a finger down. “Never have I ever been to Washington DC.”

“I haven’t been either,” said Levi.

Armin put down a finger ,exasperated. “Okay. You can bet this is targeted at you, Eren. Never have I ever been to Philadelphia,” he said. 

Eren put a finger down, scoffing at Armin. Levi put down a finger, too, his eyes clouding over slightly as if escaping a bad memory.

“When did you go?” asked Eren. 

“I grew up there,” he explained. “Lived there for a while. Can’t remember how long. I avoid it like the plague, now.”

“It’s the place where I lost my sister and my mother. I very nearly died, too--but after that, I moved to New York to live with my grandmother, and I haven’t been back since.”

“Oh,” said Eren. After some time, he added, “I found my sister there.”

“My sister’s dead,” explained Levi, “And I feel like a horrible person because I can’t even remember her name.”

They lapsed into silence, the game somewhat forgotten. 

After a while, Levi asked Eren, “What’s your sister like?” His tone verged on jealousy. 

“Her name is Mikasa.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “I know.”

“She has short black hair, violet eyes, and she always wears this red scarf that I gave her--God, that must have been ten years ago. I haven’t been apart for her for this long since I found her.”

Armin interrupted. “She’s been Eren and my best friend for ten years. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known--she’s protective, over-bearing, sensitive, passionate, introverted. She’s incredibly complicated, incredibly beautiful…” he blushed. “She’s been jaded by what’s happened to her, but she’s as innocent as she is strong. She’s disciplined, too, and--” 

He trailed off. 

“You should write poetry,” Levi murmured. “Love is an amazing source of inspiration. And Eren?”

“Yea?”

“That’s how you describe a person. Not, ‘she has black hair.’”

“Whatever,” said Eren defensively. “I can tell you more. She plays the violin. She wants to join the military, but she won’t.”

“That’s a start. Why won’t she?” asked Levi. 

“I don’t know. I just kinda understand that she won’t, even if it’s something she wants more than anything.”

“I think I know why,” said Armin. But he didn’t explain. 

“Well,” said Levi, “Why, then?”

“Because she wants to protect Eren and so she won’t leave him. And she doesn’t want to disappoint Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger, but she fears she already has.”

“She sounds fascinating,” said Levi. 

Both Eren and Armin looked up at him in surprise. “Did he seriously just say that?” asked Eren. Armin nodded, but looked just as surprised. 

“You must admit that was an uncharacteristic comment for you.”

Levi shrugged. 

“Tell me about your girlfriend, kid. You said her name was Mina?” Levi smirked slightly. 

“I don’t know. There’s not much to tell. It was freshman year of school, she liked me, and she looked a bit like my crush, so--It just sorta happened, I guess. She was nice. But you know, it wasn’t particularly special. I broke up with her a couple days after we first kissed.”

“Why?” asked Levi. 

“Because I was pretending she was someone who she wasn’t. And that isn’t fair.”

“Don’t take it so seriously,” said Levi. 

“Yea,” said Armin, smiling, “But I kinda wish I had apologized. She has a boyfriend now, so I guess she’s fine--just, when something happens like this, I wish I could go back and make sure that I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“I suppose I can’t blame you for being depressing, since I started it,” said Levi. 

After some time, Armin announced his intention to try and sleep. Eren nodded his affirmation, and Armin retreated to an opposite corner of the basement. 

“Hey, Levi?” asked Eren. “Do you have any water in the basement?”

“Yea,” he replied, ‘just in the storage closet. Get me one too.”

Eren got up from where he was sitting and opened the closet door. Sure enough, there was a pack of water, so he grabbed two and went back towards Levi. 

Levi was flopped against the wall with almost aggressively bad posture. Eren wasted no time in positioning himself next to Levi, just a few inches next to him, and just close enough for it to be interpreted as more than platonic. 

Levi looked at him sideways, as if to judge the intention of Eren’s proximity. He raised an eyebrow and contemplated moving away. But however much his good judgement told him to shrink away, he couldn’t make himself. 

Eren handed him a water bottle with an unflagging grin, but Levi could tell it was forced. That distracted Levi from his own concerns, and he demanded (as softly as he could muster), “Eren. Fake smiles don’t work with me.”

“That’s a personal way to tell me that I don’t have to pretend to be happy,” he challenged. “Awfully personal, for you.”

Levi sighed. “Either tell me what in particular is wrong, or shut the fuck up.”

Eren hesistated a moment. Then, “I never thought I’d die like this; I thought I’d have years left to find out how I want to die, and what I want to live for.”

Eren avoided Levi’s eyes, and tried to hide the tears that had filled his eyes. 

“Eren,” said Levi hoarsely and on impulse, “I’m not going to let Erwin kill you.”

“Thank you,” said Eren. But you might not have a choice, he thought. 

They sat next to each other for a while, and Levi felt strange. He wished he could say something of meaning--something that could make Eren know how he felt--but he felt paralyzed by the presence next to him. 

It was a most unusual feeling. 

He was startled out of his numbness when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Levi glanced down and saw that a head full of hair rested softly there. He could not resist a small smile. 

As ridiculous as it no doubt was, he hadn’t felt this proud since--since, well, a long, long while ago. But after just a moment, Eren lifted his head and met Levi’s eyes. 

“Is it okay? I mean…”

“You having your head on my shoulder?” Levi clarified, “Yes, it’s fine.”

“Well yea, I meant that, but also, is it okay--” Eren swallowed hard and built up his courage, “is it okay that I think I have feelings for you?”

Levi smiled softly. He was less surprised than he had expected to be, but his heart jumped when he realized how real the situation was. “It may not be okay,” he carefully poised, “but it’s sure as hell the best thing that’s happened to me for some time.” 

After a moment of hesitation, he added, “And, even more possibly, it’s far more than someone like me could ever deserve.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” said Eren simply. Levi reached up and swept a piece of hair away from ren’s eyes. 

“You forget I’ve done bad things,” he corrected. 

“And you forget you have the potential for good,” said Eren. 

“That was surprisingly eloquent. But Eren, I should go to jail for what I’ve done. I just don’t want to.”

Eren’s eyes flashed with clarity. “Erwin doesn’t want you to go either.”

Levi looked mildly confused, not yet comprehending the implications of Eren’s statement. “What--? What do you mean? And how do you know?”

“If he cares about you at all, he doesn’t. And he’s keeping you hostage. Why? I can’t believe Armin didn’t realize this already. Or, maybe he did. I don’t know.”

Levi began to understand what Eren meant, but still wanted clarification. He rested his head against the wall, and looked up, fighting against the swirling dizziness that rose from his chest and into his throat and mouth. He tasted slight bile, and shook his head at Eren. 

“Levi, think. What’s the only excuse for his actions?”

“No,” said Levi, “he couldn’t possibly. He wouldn’t--”

Eren pressed closer to Levi, and thought ever so ardently how much he wished that he could say the right thing. 

“I don’t want you to go to jail, Levi.”

“But how dare he do this for me? How could he make me owe him my freedom? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

Eren’s eyes widened slightly, and he felt an odd sort of guilt in his stomach. “No,” he whispered. “He’s not giving you your freedom. He’s giving you back the life he stole from you.”

“Then that makes twice,” mused Levi, “I already owed him my life.”

Eren made no move to question that; he simply said, “Erwin’s right, though. He can’t escape this, but you can. We need--We need to figure out what to tell the police so if--if and when we do get out of this, then--”

“We,” interrupted Levi. “We.”

Levi slowed his breathing and heartrate-- tricks that Erwin had taught him to use to calm down. “Okay. As foolish as this may sound,” he continued, “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“What to you want to talk about, then?”

“Talk about? Nothing. You talk too much already,” Levi said flatly. 

“You don’t mean that,” said Eren lightly. 

“Fine. Tell me something random, then. To take my mind of this.” 

“Something random?” asked Eren. 

“Yea, brat. Couldn’t you hear me?” 

“Something random about what?”

“Tch. Do I have to spell it out to your shitty brain? Just anything about yourself, I guess. Your goddamn favorite color.”

“Uhh, okay,” said Eren. “My favorite color’s purple.” 

“What shade?”

“I can’t decide. Either lavender, or so dark that it’s almost a blue-black color. Midnight purple. But I like lavender because it reminds me of when my mom was pregnant. I was about six, and she painted the nursery lavender. It was really gorgeous. Reminded me of a calm time, back when my family spent more time together.” 

He paused, as if considering if he should say more. “I always wanted a little brother or sister. But she miscarried. I don’t remember how she took it, but that was part of the reason that she was okay with adopting Mikasa.”

“How did you meet her?” asked Levi, “Mikasa, that is.”

“I think I was eight years old. My family was walking back from dinner, to her hotel--wait. Maybe we were walking to dinner. I don’t know. Anyway, my mom wanted some air, and it was only about six o’clock, but we took a wrong turn and ended up in the not-so decent part of town. We turned around to go back the way we came, but I saw this girl crouched up against the side of a building. She was looking around her, looking suspicious of any movements, and so I was a little curious. She looked about my age, so I of course wondered why she was so nervous. On my first thought, too, it looked like she was shaking and crying, so I went towards her. She stopped shuddering and stood up, though, as soon as I got about ten feet away.” 

Eren continued, “She put her hands in front of herself, like she was protecting me from herself, or herself from me, and she said, ‘Don’t. They could be watching.’ But I shook my head and went towards her anyway. I was a little stubborn, then, and I ignored both her and my parents.”

“I can see a lot has changed,” muttered Levi sarcastically. Eren pursed his lips in mild annoyance. 

“Oh, shut up,” said Eren, and he continued. “I realized, as I got closer to her, that she wasn’t shuddering from crying, but rather because she was cold, and I think exhausted. And so I really didn’t think too much, I just handed her my scarf, and told her to come with us to dinner. And my mom and my dad couldn’t say no after I already told her to come, so--”

“Did she seriously come?” scoffed Levi. 

“She heard footsteps in the alleyway, and remembered she was running. And so it wasn’t too hard to convince her, no. We went back to our hotel, first, and my mom helped her clean up. And then we went to dinner. She’s never told me who she was running from, or why, but I know it was bad.” 

Levi nodded. “Thank you.”   
“For what?”

“I would like to think that had anyone ever found my family, they would’ve done what you did.”

Eren smiled and rested his head back on Levi’s shoulder. 

“So…”

“What is it, brat?”

“Since I might only have a week left to live, although hopefully not, and yes, I’m using this to guilt you, will you, maybe, date me?”

“Tch,” replied Levi, holding back a small smile. “Only because of the guilt. Nothing more.” 

But Eren laughed.


	30. Three Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (to read, and to listen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry. Christmas cliffhanger.

Erwin flipped through the recent calls on Levi’s phone, hoping for a hint as to how to contact Eren’s family. He noted that there were two calls in close succession: one to a number with the area code of the city, and the other with an area code from Albany. 

His finger hovered over the number from Albany. Why had Levi called this number? Why was Erwin’s own number the call directly after the call for ransom? 

Annie. 

But how was Annie involved with Eren? 

Mikasa Ackerman. 

Without another thought, he dialed the number. It rang once. His heart slowed a pace. It rang again. 

A velvet voice greeted him. Or rather, not him, but--

“Levi,” Mikasa breathed. 

“Wrong,” countered Erwin. Mikasa waited, giving him time to say something else: it was he who had called, anyway. 

“Listen carefully for the next three minutes,” said Erwin, “And if you follow my instructions, there is a feeble chance your brother will still be alive by the time you get to him.”


	31. Fourteen Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa remembers what happened fourteen years ago. 
> 
> Levi forgets.

Annie had frozen when the phone rang. It could be anyone, but it probably wasn’t. Mikasa and she had backed Erwin into a corner, and Erwin was a dangerous man. 

But, come to think of it, anyone is dangerous when backed into a corner. Death throes, and desperation, are to be feared. 

But Annie wasn’t one to succumb to fear. She simply battled away her apprehension, slipped her hand into Mikasa’s, and murmured to the taller girl to answer it. 

Mikasa did, her breath wavering as she saw the caller ID. 

It wasn’t Erwin, fortunately. It was Levi. But Levi was working under Erwin, and--

“Levi,” Mikasa breathed. 

But the voice that replied to her was not the smooth and icy voice that she had recalled. Whereas Levi’s oozed with quiet, cool confidence, this voice was that of a commander. 

Annie exchanged a look with Mikasa. She remembered a thought she had had almost a lifetime ago. There is darkness and light to everything. But sometimes light is cold. 

The voice she recognized was cold and harsh as daybreak on a winter morning: too bright to really look at. 

And sometimes darkness is more pure than light. But every darkness needs a light, just like every light needs a darkness. 

Annie knew she was a cold light. Mikasa was a tepid darkness. But Mikasa was her darkness, and Annie would protect her darkness from an even colder light that beckoned through the phone line. 

Every light and every darkness has the potential for beauty. But sometimes light makes darkness ugly; and sometimes darkness makes light beautiful. 

Erwin’s voice was far from beautiful, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that cold voice was protecting someone important to him. 

“Listen carefully for the next three minutes,” said Erwin, “And if you follow my instructions, there is a feeble chance your brother will still be alive by the time you get to him.”

The voice with the likeness to a commander sounded desperate. He was facing the end. But would he destroy, or would he bring life? 

Mikasa shook from the tips of her hair to her ankles. It didn’t matter what Erwin intended, to Mikasa. Eren’s life was on the line. And that trumped any danger. 

The desperation in his voice cooled as his emotions hardened into resolution: “Mikasa. And I assume Annie is there as well.” He hesitated, but not long enough for either of them to interrupt and confirm his assumption.

“I have in my hands the lives of three people whom I believe you care for very much.” 

Three? wondered Mikasa… Eren, and Armin. Levi said that he only had Eren and Armin with him. Eren and Armin.

“But then again I should remind you that they are not exactly in my hands. They are in yours. Listen very, very carefully. I have no qualms with killing, but I would rather not. It would annoy me if I have to kill them, and when I get annoyed, I make things more painful for everyone. These are my instructions:” 

“First. You will not go to the police. If you do, not only will I kill my three charges, but I will also reveal every illegal action you’ve taken part in during the last three weeks.” 

“Second. You will both come in person to the address that I will give you at the end of this call. Both of you will come together: I don’t intend to have one of you scheming behind the scenes.” 

“Third. You will tell no one as to your whereabouts between now and tomorrow at five o’clock, which is when you will be at the address.” 

“Fourth of all, I want you to know that although you are fighting for what you love, I am fighting for much, much more.” 

What could be more than for what you love? I don’t think there’s anything I care about more than Eren. Not even--well, maybe--but she hadn’t known Annie for very long, so could it really be called love? 

“Erwin,” interrupted Annie. “Who is the third person? Whom do you have in your possession that we don’t know about?” 

“I’ll answer that will a question.” Erwin laughed softly, “Mikasa, do you have a brother?”

“Yes,” she replied. “But you already know that.” 

“I mean by blood,” replied Erwin. 

“Eren is my brother by everything,” defended Mikasa. 

Loyal to a fault, smiled Annie. 

“Well, consider again. But before I convince you to tell the truth, I have a story to tell. I feel guilty for telling this, but if I’m right, then its necessary.” 

He paused (for dramatic effect, Levi would have said.) 

“Well then?” spurred Annie. 

“When I was 19 years old, I saved my first life. I saved a thirteen year old boy who had tried so desperately to die. He woke up in the hospital, alone except for his grandmother, to whom he wasn’t very close. I had never met him before, but I didn’t want him to wake up alone when he was already convinced that no one loved him.” 

“He told me that he used to have a family, but when he was eleven years old, he came home from school to find his father’s dead body and the blood of his mother and sister scattered around the kitchen. He told me then that he didn’t cry, he just sort of sat in the middle of that ugliness and stared. He also told me that he wished that he had been there when it happened; not so that he could have saved them: he didn’t believe himself to be capable, but so he could have died with them. He was adopted by his grandmother. I don’t know if they were actually related, but he called her that, anyway. She was involved in charity work, and naively adopted a brother and sister off the streets. Isabel and Farlan.” 

“Farlan was Levi’s way of fulfilling his death wish.” 

Levi? 

The Levi that had Eren? 

“Farlan was involved in drugs. At first, Levi stole from Farlan, simply because his pride wouldn’t allow him to ask for anything. But Farlan found out.” 

Erwin took a silent breath. I can’t risk letting them know how much I care about him; then Annie will realize what I’m doing and of all things, that, that, cannot. ever. happen. 

“He was twelve years old and was sent to the hospital, on the brink of death. I think his brain was more damaged from grief than it was from the drugs and the beating, but it doesn’t really matter. When he woke up, he could remember the faces of his dead family, but not their names. I think he hated that more than the fact that he lost them.”

“He told me once that he would give up everything he owned just to know his sister’s name. I told him he wouldn’t have to, that one day I would find out how she died. But instead, I found out something else. So, tell me, Mikasa, are you twenty years old? And did you lose your family and your home, and practically your life, many long years ago?” 

Mikasa dropped the phone from the table and snapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. 

On the other end of the line, Erwin smiled. 

“I’ll call you back in half an hour,” he said. And then he hung up.


	32. And So She Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking sorry you guys probably thought I died/abandoned this, and I know I really suck.  
> I literally just didn't feel like writing.  
> On the plus side, I figured out the climax and have a cutesy/angst Yumikuri chapter coming up next

Nothing could have prepared her. No one should know her story, not even Eren. It had been an intimate secret buried in her chest. It had been the reason that she cut her hair, the reason she had made a new family, keeping only her last name as a reminder. 

Mikasa Ackerman, she mouthed to herself, the rest of her body numb and colder than she had ever remembered. She had forgotten Annie beside her. All her mental energy was focused on the memory that she had tried so hard to forget. 

How had this man--this evil man--know what had happened to her brother? and moreover, to her? 

Annie’s eyes were fixed on her, silent, unquestioning, at Mikasa’s face. There were tears racing down her cheeks, but she was silent after her initial outburst. 

She sank slowly to the floor, burying her head in her knees. Annie sat patiently next to her, as Mikasa rocked slowly back and forth. She cried quietly, but occasional sobs slipped from her throat. Annie focused on Mikasa, and tried to forget about how helpless she felt not knowing what was going on, and how helpless she felt not being about to help. 

Half an hour, thought Annie. It’s been ten minutes: I’ll give her another five. But…

She had no way of knowing if Mikasa would be okay. Annie was fortunate, though, that Mikasa understood their time constraints well. They did not have the time to wallow. If they were honest, they didn’t even have time to think, let alone allow the past to catch up with them. 

“Annie?” said Mikasa, in a hesitant voice. She reached out her hand without looking up. Annie clasped her outstretched hand and gently helped her up. 

“Annie, I swear I’ll tell you about this after. I don’t want to, but I will.” 

“Then what he said was true?” questioned Annie in a softer voice than she was accustomed to. 

“Levi--it’s possible there’s a relation. I mean, it’s possible, it’s likely, he is that person that Erwin says.”

“Would you know if you saw him?”

“Everything is blurred. I haven’t seen him in fourteen years. I don’t even know if...I assumed he and my father were both dead.” She paused briefly before continuing speaking. “Erwin said he would call back in half an hour. It’s been fifteen minutes, approximately. That means we have fifteen minutes left to find a plan and to know Erwin’s weakness.” 

“Good,” said Annie. “Because I have an idea.”

Mikasa nodded. “Yes?”

“Eren, Eren Jaeger--you consider him the person that saved you, right?”

Mikasa nodded again. 

“Then listen. Eren must love you, and you love Eren. Do you think that most people in your positions would develop a close relationship?”

“Our positions, meaning that we met at a young age and have relied on each other for years?” clarified Mikasa. 

Annie shrugged. “Or even just the position of having saved on another.”

“It depends. Probably,” said Mikasa. Her eyes widened. “You mean--”

“It’s possible.”

Mikasa simply stared at Annie. Annie opened her mouth as if to say something more, but then stopped. 

“What is it?” asked Mikasa. 

Annie smiled faintly. “Two things.” She allowed for a long pause. 

“So?” asked Mikasa. “These two things are…” 

“One, you are remarkably beautiful. And two?” 

Annie leaned forward and kissed her on the lips: gently at first, as if preserving glass--and then more strongly. The kiss did not last long, but left both of them breathless. 

“I understand,” said Mikasa. “Thank you.” 

The silence of their mutual understanding pervaded for a moment before Mikasa realized that they had to continue their plans.

“Annie, do you have a photographic memory?” she asked. 

“No. Why do you ask?”

“You remember things. Like the date when Erwin turned out happy. And you never doubt your own theories or your memories.”

Annie shrugged. “I have a numerically structured memory. I remember dates, and anything else I want to so long as I mentally structure it properly.” She frowned slightly, considering. “I wish I could use my mind faster. It takes me so much time to think, time we don’t have. And I’m missing something. What Erwin is doing doesn’t make sense. It’s not logical, and Erwin’s logical. He should be running.”

Mikasa nodded slowly. After a moment, though, something in her eyes clicked. “It makes perfect sense. Even perfect logical sense. He’s prioritizing! That’s it. He wants us to know he’s kidnapped Levi.”

“Yes,” said Annie. “But why?”

“He wants us to know; that was the point of the whole, ‘I have three people you care about,’ charade. It mustn’t have been easy for him to tell that story--but he did!” 

“And?”

“He’s clever. He’s protecting Levi from us and from the law. He’s taking responsibility. He realized his plan failed, and he’s trying to get Levi off free. And at the best case scenario for him, he gets the chance to get rid of me, Eren, Armin, and you--the people who know the most about the Wings of Freedom.”

At first Annie shook her head in casual disbelief. But as Erwin’s past actions clicked with Mikasa’s understanding of their motivations, she admitted that Mikasa’s theory had quite a bit of veracity. 

Upon this realization, her eyes turned cold--and Mikasa was sure that there was a special shade of ice blue that was reserved specifically for Erwin Smith. 

“Then, when he calls again in a few minutes, we won’t let on anything. Then, we’ll follow his instructions until we reach Eren and Armin, we’ll call the police…”

“And tell them what?” said Mikasa. “I’m afraid we’ll deserve to go to jail, if we follow his instructions. Besides, if we go, we’ll need weapons, and that’s pretty suspicious.”

“We can tell the police that he threatened us. Which is true. Or we can get your father to be our lawyer.” At her latter statement, Annie laughed distastefully. 

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure my parents would only defend me. Or not even that once they found out who you are to me.”  
Annie smiled again, fondly. The smile reached the corners of her eyes, but had a tinge of sadness. “I know. Either way, let’s think of a backstory before we go.”

“Okay,” said Mikasa. “But--”

The phone rang, and they both froze. 

“You ready?” asked Annie. Mikasa ran a hand through her hair, and nodded. If she was nervous, it showed only in that she breathed a little more rapidly than normal. 

“Hello,” she said, picking up the phone in a graceful motion. As soon as Erwin replied, she switched to speaker and placed the phone on the adjacent table. 

“Have you taken the time you need?” he asked vaguely. 

“Enough small talk. We’ve decided to follow your instructions,” said Annie, as concise as to the point as she was usually. 

“Good,” said Erwin. “Come at five oclock. You already know the address.” And then, he hung up. 

Annie turned to Mikasa. 

“We have four hours. It’s time to prepare.” 

They left the main room, to Annie’s room. Immediately, Mikasa asked, “When can I take off this cast?”

“It’s been four weeks,” said Annie. “So...given the cleanness of the break, you’ll be fine in another couple weeks.”

Mikasa sighed gently. “At least I can still fight,” she murmured. 

“How did you learn to fight?” asked Annie.

“It became necessary to defend myself, when I was young. And I took tae kwon do lessons with Eren for three years. Eren never took it seriously, though. Perhaps he should have. How about you?”

“My father taught me and my brother, back when we lived in Philadelphia.” 

Mikasa nodded. “Can I take a look at your knife collection?”

Annie didn’t hesitate, nor did she verbally reply. She simply opened her safe, and heaved her collection onto the bed. 

“Let’s take a look,” Mikasa said.

“I don’t have any firearms. But you can take your pick from here,” said Annie. As she opened her knife case, she almost immediately grasped a peculiar looking pair of knives. Mikasa reached towards them also, and asked, “May I?”

Annie nodded and handed her the knife. Mikasa turned it over in her hands. The blade was short-extremely short, perhaps only three and a half inches long. The blade was attached to a handle in which all four fingers could slip into. 

Mikasa held it in her hands, and ran her fingers along the blade in admiration. It was tempered black, sleek, and thin. She hesitated a moment, as if loathe to give it back. “It suits you,” she said, almost reverently. 

She held it back. 

Annie smirked. “Yes, it does. My brother’s boyfriend made it for me for my fifteenth birthday. He makes knives.”

“I never would have guessed,” said Mikasa with a small smile. 

“We should find you one,” said Annie. “I’m still thinking about what would suit you best. But do you have any preferences?” She turned her attention to perusing through the knife set on the bed. 

“I really hate violence,” said Mikasa softly. “I’ve prepared for it all my life, but I really hate it. I know it’s necessary. But maybe something clean, if you know what I mean.”

“I think so,” said Annie. Annie looked at her, softly, as if understanding something. “It’s been necessary before, for you, hasn’t it.” 

Mikasa nodded once. “The first time I ever held a knife against another person, it was a kitchen knife. That my mother had dropped. I was seven years old. Needless to say, it didn’t work. But after that, I did what I could to be strong. I wasn’t very, though. It’s impossible to fight without something to live for… I--”

She couldn’t make herself say the final sentence that was poised on her lips. Annie understood, somewhat--and murmured that she would hear Mikasa’s explanation later, when she wanted. So, as Annie turned back towards the knife collection, Mikasa opened her mouth. 

“I’ve killed someone before,” she said. “I don’t want you to have to.” Annie remained stoic except for a small sigh. 

“I’m sorry that you had to,” said Annie. “And I’m sorry we’re in this situation again where you could get hurt.” 

“It’s okay,” said Mikasa. “I just need a knife.”

Annie surveyed her selection yet again. It was composed mainly of small knives, not longer than her forearm. She liked all of them, of course, but she felt that they were harsh--not clean like Mikasa had requested. Not sleek enough for her fingertips. 

She had a flash of insight. 

“Mika!” she said, sounding surprisingly excited. “Have you ever used a katana?”

“I’ve practiced with them,” she replied, “But usually I’ve had both hands to work with. Still, it should be fine. I didn’t see any, though.” 

Annie dropped to her hands, startlingly fast. She lay flat on the floor and reached far under the bed. When she emerged, she emerged with a strange contraption: a double sheath, complete with the promised double katanas. Annie brushed some dust off of it, and turned to Mikasa. 

“Here. Try it on.”

And so she did.


	33. Oh. So That's Why.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so just so y'all know, I choreographed every inch of this action scene. I know it is possible because i fucking did it... legit went to the park by my house and threw a around knife-sized sticks, and measured out paces of the basement... YEA I WENT ALL OUT ON THIS CHAPTER, y'all. be happy. I did it for you.   
> Also, this is not the end! I have at least one more chapter written, and I have a few more ideas being written in my head currently.   
> So, this is THE chapter. I hope you guys enjoy. Please tell me your favorite part, or if you liked it--any comment would really mean the world to me. Thanks my loves!

Levi,  
I’m sorry to write this because it doesn’t make a difference. Still, I wanted to explain all this in case something happens to us. You haven’t been responding to my calls or texts, and so I’m worried. That’s why I’m putting this in your mailbox. I’ll drop by later, unless you tell me otherwise. 

Long story short, you’re my closest friend. And foolish me, I’ve had feelings for you as long as I can remember. I thought Erwin could make them go away, but it just made everything worse. I’m so sorry. 

I could go on. But it’s not really necessary. Thank you for you friendship. If you decide you’d prefer not to be around me, I understand. I would not blame you. 

Petra. 

She walked to the mailbox, opened it deftly, and closed it. She contemplated knocking on his door, but thought better of it, and went back to her motorcycle. As she was about to mount it, though, and old, beat up Camry crawled into the street. Sullen eyes--dark blue, almost violet--surveyed the address of Levi’s house from the passenger side. 

Petra froze. 

As the car got closer to Levi’s house--where Petra stood, her right hand placed defensively over the handlebars of her motorbike, she almost expected it to drive by. She almost breathed a sigh of relief as it went past the house just a little bit, before stopping briefly and backing into the driveway. 

Like they owned the damn place. 

Petra stepped away from her bike, and walked towards the car cautiously--the kind of people at Levi’s place weren’t always friendly. But Petra considered herself adept enough at taking care of herself, even around unsavory people. 

She forgot sometimes that it wasn’t just for her anymore. Her stomach churned as she thought about who she was--what she had done, and what she was doing--all of which was such a danger to the life inside of her. 

But she walked forward to apprehend the driver anyway. 

The car stopped, and before Petra was halfway to the car, the driver’s side opened. 

A girl perhaps a year or two younger than her--but almost four inches shorter--stepped confidently out of the car. She approached Petra head on, and Petra stopped walking entirely. She assumed a more guarded stance; stepping back. 

“Petra,” said Annie. “What are you doing here?”

“How do you know my name?” asked Petra, abandoning her intentions to stop the girl from entering Levi’s house. She wished she hadn’t left her motorbike, she wanted to be gone, a thousand miles away from those ice eyes, a thousand miles away from Erwin’s eyes on a girl who could not have been yet twenty five. 

She took another step back. 

“Relax,” said Annie. She smirked. “You’re Erwin’s girlfriend. You came to the hospital a couple times, where I used to work.” 

“Oh,” said Petra. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be here for a particular reason, would you?” asked Annie. A bystander might have thought it an innocent question, but Petra saw the malice in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Petra. “I’m here to see a friend. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Business,” said Annie coolly, her lips turning slightly downwards. “But I’m not interested in why I’m here. I think it’s an awful…”

“Coincidence. Coincidence, that you’re here,” finished Mikasa. Petra had hardly noticed the other girl climb out of the passenger seat. 

“Yes, coincidence,” said Annie. “So do you want to tell us why you’re here?”

Petra took another step backwards, almost stumbling over her right foot. Annie scoffed quietly, and waited for the woman to respond. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t know what you’re suspecting me of.”

“Well, then maybe you can tell the police that you just happened to be at this address as someone close to you, who happens to be on the run?”

“I don’t know where Erwin is,” replied Petra, more firmly. “And why are you at Le--my friend’s address?”

“So this is Levi’s home?” asked Annie. 

“I don’t think--”

Annie reached into her right hand pocket, slipped on the knife, and stepped right, left, and right again--three quick steps towards Petra until--

Her left hand held the back of Petra’s neck, almost intimately, towards her right hand. Petra stared down at the knife at her throat, stared down at the tempered black metal, and stared into the eyes of the girl. 

She wanted to say, Levi will never let you live if you kill me. But she didn’t know that. And she wouldn’t want Levi to avenge her death, not when he had the chance to live, he had the chance to be happy, after all this, after all this, after all this, but oh God I want to live. 

“This is Levi’s address,” said Annie. 

Petra nodded. 

“Good,” said Annie. “That was easy. Now, listen carefully for the next part, okay?”

Petra nodded again. 

Annie leaned in and whispered something in Petra’s ear. 

She pulled back and said louder, “Good. And if you have the courage, call the police.”

Annie turned back towards Mikasa as Petra ran to her motorbike. Annie looked at Mikasa a moment, admiring how the polished red handles of her katanas shone against the vibrancy of her scarf; admiring how her right arm was so beautifully poised on the sheath of her katana in contrast to the cast on her left hand. She rather did like the katana sheath: although it had been a pain to undo the stiff buckles to attach it to Mikasa’s torso, the effects had been fear-inspiring. 

Perhaps just for the effect of it, Mikasa grasped the sword in her right hand, and pulled it upwards and to the right--from over her head, and brandishing it forwards in front of her. 

Annie smiled appreciatively. 

Petra was gone in moments, the sputtering of the motorcycle the only sound audible. Annie walked quickly towards Mikasa, and the taller girl sheathed her sword again and walked confidently towards Annie, around the back of the car. Not missing a stride, Mikasa grabbed Annie’s left hand in her right, and said, 

“Let’s go.”

Annie nodded once, and the pair walked, hand in hand, to the front door, to meet--to meet something that they did not quite yet know.

Grass to the right, a flower bed to the left. But there’s no flowers on the plants--it’s too late in the year. Concrete forward. Three steps up. A breath. Another breath. Four steps forward. 

It’s a normal looking house. Mikasa tried not to let her paranoia overwhelm her. It’s a normal looking house. That somehow makes it seem more terrifying. Annie gripped her hand tighter. 

They’re five minutes early. There’s a note on the door. 

Annie, Mikasa. 

You’ve come. I’m impressed. The door’s not locked; please feel free to look around. 

 

“That’s it?” said Mikasa. 

“It gives him the advantage. We have to look through the damn house. And he could be anywhere.”

“I don’t understand,” said Mikasa. “Is it some sort of game to him?”

“Maybe,” shrugged Annie. “Let’s find out.”

Annie released Mikasa’s hand and opened the door slowly, as if expecting a trap. When none came, the two peered through the door and into the hallway. The sky was already darkening, and no lights were on in the house, which left the lighting gloomy and seemingly out of a cheap horror film. 

Mikasa looked once at the wood floor, and said softly, “Stay as near to the walls as possible. The floor will make less noise.”

Annie nodded, and hesitated a moment. Mikasa smiled reassuringly in response and pushed past her, entering the house. She stepped lightly, but the floor still creaked slightly, eliciting a small murmur from Mikasa. 

“He’s waiting for us,” said Mikasa. Annie stepped inside the house next to her, and swung the door so it was almost closed, but not quite--in case they needed to get out fast; it was for this reason too that they had backed the car into the driveway rather than parking out in front. 

“Where do you think?” said Annie. 

Mikasa surveyed the room. “Not upstairs. Then we could hear him walk…” She peered into the darkness again, until her eyes fixed upon a set of narrow stairs at a corner that trailed downwards for an unknown amount of space. 

The house was narrow: perhaps only 13 feet wide. So, it was unlikely that Erwin would could be with three other people in a room: there seemed only to be a bedroom, a kitchen, and perhaps a bathroom. 

“Basement,” said Mikasa, pointing, just as Annie thought of the same option. “If I were him, I’d be waiting underneath the stairs--just behind the door. But I thought he wanted to just talk. I don’t know why all this is necessary.”

“At least Petra will bring the police,” said Annie. 

“What did you say to her out there?”

Annie shrugged. “Just that I knew she was involved in this, but that if she pinned everything on Erwin and pretended she knew nothing, and went to the police right then, then I wouldn’t contradict her.”

Mikasa nodded. “I still don’t get why it’s necessary.”

“Since when has Erwin done anything simple? He has some plan--like we discussed earlier. Don’t expect anything to go as it planned. But he’s already expecting us. We may as well go down.”

“Okay,” said Mikasa. “I’m going down first. You follow.” 

“That doesn’t make sense! You won’t be able to open the door with your katana and your left arm broken!” 

“Annie,” said Mikasa. 

“No! Absolutely not.” Her whispers grew more agitated. 

“Annie, I want Eren to see me first. So please.” 

Annie crossed her arms, somewhat defeated. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. But don’t you fucking dare get hurt.” 

On an impulse, she leaned forward and brought their lips together--not gently; it could hardly be called a kiss. It was a warning; a battle; and a message. 

She pulled back slightly, and looked at Mikasa squarely in the eyes. “Don’t get hurt,” she repeated. “I--I really care for you. So don’t get hurt.” 

And she averted her eyes as Mikasa stood up straight, and smiled softly. “Me too,” she murmured. “God knows, me too.” 

And with that, she followed the walls to the corner with the stairs. Annie kept close to her heels. 

There were seven stairs: narrow and ominous. It ended in a small door that opened into the basement, presumably. She crept down, a stair at a time. When she reached the door, she noted a recently mangled doorknob: the door appeared to have once had a lock from the outside, but someone had evidently destroyed it. 

She poised carefully, and stepped to the side as she pushed open the door with a firm motion. Within less than a second after that, she had drawn her sword and brandished it in front of her. The basement inside was dark--darker than the house. But as the door opened,she heard an unmistakably muffled cry from the far right corner of the basement. 

Her fear for Eren revolted against her logical mind, but she stood there silently, waiting. She realized she was at a disadvantage, and so instead of rushing forward, she stayed. Whoever was in the basement clearly could see her silhouette, and besides, their eyes would have long since adjusted. So, she waited, slightly to the side and behind the door, sword extended into the darkness. 

“Smarter than I thought,” came a voice from the dark. “I thought for a moment you may have been overcome by your emotions.”

“Erwin,” spat Annie through gritted teeth. Rage. 

“Come in,” said Erwin. “We have a lot to discuss.” He switched on the light and stirred from his position behind the door. He had the stance of a general--impeccable posture, a grim smile, a perfectly pressed suit. The only thing that betrayed his unrest was the significant bags beneath his cold blue eyes. In his right hand was a small revolver, a revolver Erwin had known for years as the revolver Levi kept in his right drawer…

Mikasa stepped into the room softly, holding her knife to her side, pointing i eloquently downwards--as if to say that it was only a threat if Erwin pointe his gun. 

They were five, maybe six feet apart. She saw Eren, and Armin, and a man with black hair (perhaps familiar black hair?) in the back--but she kept her unfeeling eyes on Erwin and Erwin alone, as if she could not see the trio. 

Annie walked in behind Mikasa--not as cautious--but not needing to be. She kept her hands in her oversized sweatshirt pocket, masking the blades that fit so beautifully on her fingers. She hardened her fists, and felt the construction of those metal rings against her knuckles. It was calming to her. 

She laid eyes on Erwin’s gun. Six, maybe seven feet away--she could oh-so easily step once, twice, thrice, and kick, slice the hand, watch the gun drop, kick it back to Mikasa, hold the kinfe to the stretching tendons of his neck--and slice….

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She could see Erwin’s pulse. Rage. Ugliness. 

The ugliness of causing death. Of wanting to cause death. She could do it. Without hesitation. 

I don’t want you to have to.

She kept her gaze nonchalant, as Erwin sized her up. Unconsciously, her legs brought her two small steps forward. She stood slightly in front of Mikasa, now, as if protecting her from what was to come. She had stepped slightly to Mikasa’s left, of course--so she wouldn’t interfere with her sword arm. 

Annie forced herself to relax, one muscle at a time. She breathed slowly and calmly, trying to get rid of the rage that had overtaken her. Now wasn’t the time or the place--

But when Erwin noticed and smiled at her slightly, she bristled just a bit, before relaxing again. She must convince him that she wasn’t going to attack; she must convince herself that she wasn’t going to attack; she must not attack. 

Erwin watched her carefully. “Let’s talk,” he said, speaking to Mikasa but looking only at Annie. 

Mikasa nodded. “Fine. But put down your gun.” 

“Then put down your knife.”

It’s a damn katana, thought Annie. 

Mikasa glanced at Annie. Annie nodded back to her: more confidently than she thought she might have. Her heart began beating faster again, as she knew that as Mikasa disarmed herself, there was such a good chance that--

Mikasa stepped slightly forward and lay the katana gently on the floor. Erwin looked genuinely surprised; Annie extricated her fingers from the ring-knives, and held the right one carefully inside her pocket, grasped between her thumb and the side of her forefinger. 

Her eyes remained fixed on Erwin, waiting for him to put down the gun. For a moment, she thought that he would--she had convinced herself she was worrying for nothing, that he would obey Mikasa’s request. 

But something in her knew that he wouldn’t. Because Erwin was much too smart for that, and Erwin’s only chance was out-arming them; they outnumbered him. 

Erwin didn’t put down his gun. 

Time froze. Mikasa looked to Annie as Erwin raised his arm (why so slowly, why is he moving so slowly, and why am I frozen here, it’s like before, it’s like hell, I can’t move, I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t but I have to anyway, for Eren, for Eren, for Eren and Annie, Eren and Annie, Eren and Annie, Eren and Annie.)

She made herself move out of the way, made herself dive to the floor as Erwin’s hand rose to aim at her chest, and Annie, oh God, Annie, Annie had whipped her knife out and threw it without hesitation. 

And somehow, when that knife was lodged in Erwin’s forearm, a good four inches before the elbow, Mikasa lept forward, only half off the ground, and ran towards the gun that Erwin dropped from the force of the blow. 

And Erwin, the sound of his muffled cry coming only a moment after his wound, clasped his arm, groaning almost pitifully, looking genuinely surprised for once. He grit his teeth, but it didn’t stop the sound coming from his mouth, didn’t stop the sound coming from the mouth of the small, black-haired man in the back of the room, sobbing inaudible curses through the layer of duct tape that obstructed his mouth as if it were his own arm bleeding. 

And Mikasa didn’t feel human in this instant. She felt triumphant, triumphant at those curses, because that meant that Erwin had a weakness. The steely voice of the kidnapper, Levi, she and Annie had heard on the phone, had dissolved into weakness; the sort of weakness that only came from love. 

Mikasa was used to having her love being used against her. She was used to it when they had put a knife to her mother’s throat and told her to follow. She was used to it when she had found Eren, and people thought she was in love with him, and so made fun of both. She was used to it when she first looked at a girl the same way her friends looked at girls, and she was used to it the first time she heard the word “dyke” used like a curse. 

But she wasn’t going to put up with it from Erwin Smith, and she wasn’t going to let anyone take away Eren. And so, she did the natural thing. She picked up the gun, and walked towards Erwin. She clicked off the safety, and walked up to him until he backed up against the far wall, just a few feet the the left of Levi, Eren, and Armin. 

Something in her eyes must have made him walk backwards without question, until the wall didn’t let him escape any further away. Or maybe it was his bleeding wrist. She really didn’t know. 

After he was still, shivering slightly, holding his wrist, Mikasa backed up, until she was half-way between the trio and Erwin. 

“So,” she said. “I think that now’s the time that you start explaining. Everything.”

Erwin may have been afraid, but he didn’t show it. He laughed, slightly, trying to ignore his arm, and said, “There’s not much to tell.”

“Oh,” said Mikasa, walking towards the three hostages. (It was time they were freed, anyway.)

“Why don’t you start with where the rest of the hostages are, and tell me who else is involved?” she continued, and she stopped gently in front of Eren, as if to free him from the ropes that bound his arms and legs together, and the duct tape that prevented him from speaking. 

But since she only had one free hand--and it was holding a gun pointed at Erwin, she thought better of it. Annie understood her intention, and walked up to Eren (Mikasa stepped back). She was surprisingly gentle when she peeled up the duct tape. 

“Thank you,” he said, eyes wide. Annie went to the other two and slowly removed the duct tape, until all three could speak. Then, she set to work untying Eren’s bonds. 

While Annie was working at that, Erwin and Mikasa looked at each other challengingly. “So?” said Mikasa, “Start. Where are the rest of my friends?”

 

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” replied Erwin. 

“Oh?” said Mikasa. “Is that so? Are you feeling a little bitter over your bleeding arm?” Because things are about to get a whole lot worse, she thought. 

Erwin smiled condescendingly. 

“Fine then,” said Mikasa. She approached Annie and Eren. The previous had abandoned her attempts to untie the rope, and instead slashed at it deftly with her knife. Mikasa smiled down at Eren, reassuring him. 

And then she swiveled the aim of the revolver, aimed carefully and quickly, and found her target. She gave a last look at Erwin, and pulled the trigger. 

“No! What the fuck is wrong with you! Mikasa! No!” 

Levi had cried out. It was his knee, after all, that was shattered into bits on the basement floor. Erwin had cried out too, of course. But it wasn’t Erwin’s cry that astounded her. 

It was Eren’s. It was Eren that cursed her name, it was Eren’s eyes who had stared at her filled with so much hatred. And it was a good thing that Annie had started with Eren’s hands, but not his legs, so he couldn’t get up, so he couldn’t escape Annie’s death grip on his arms that pinned them behind his back. 

After an initial scream, Levi fell silent, except for murmuring softly to Eren, “It’s okay, brat. Stop making such an awful lot of noise. I’ve had worse.” 

And Erwin just stood against the wall, and let his knees give under him and his back slide down the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered hoarsely. To Levi? It had to be to Levi. “Hanji and Mike have a chem lab. The address is 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Reiner and Bertholt have an apartment. Annie knows the address. That’s it. I’m done.” 

Annie heard sirens in the distance. 

“Fuck,” said Annie. “Erwin. When Hanji and Mike find out you’re arrested, what will they do?” 

Erwin didn’t answer. 

“Erwin, you’re going to call Hanji right now, and tell her to run, and leave the kids where they are. Okay?”

He didn’t argue; he flipped open his phone and dialed the number. Hanji picked up after just one ring. 

They heard a vehement, “No!” through the phone, and Erwin just sighed. 

“You’ll do it, I said,” he replied to her, “And you’re going to do it.”

He hung up before she replied again. 

“Now Reiner and Bertl,” said Annie. 

“You should,” said Erwin. Annie nodded, and he tossed her the phone. 

As soon as Reiner picked up, Annie said calmly, “You really fucked up. What you’re going to do right now is leave your apartment and run as fast as you can away from New York. And you’re going to leave the kids just where they are. Am I clear?”

“How did you find out?” asked Reiner calmly. 

“I have Erwin at gunpoint,” she said, sounding an odd combination of bored and triumphant. “Now get the fuck outta there, the police are coming.”

She hung up and tossed the phone back to Erwin. 

“Erwin was aiming for Eren but hit Levi because I through the knife at Erwin’s arm,” said Annie simply. 

“Fine,” said Erwin. “But Levi has no implication in this. It’s me, and me alone.”

“That should be easy to arrange, considering you shot him,” said Annie nonchalantly. 

They heard the police announce their presence and break through the front door. 

“Down here!” yelled Mikasa. 

“I’m sorry,” said Eren, to no one in particular. Then, to Levi: “I’m not going to leave you.” 

And Mikasa’s heart stopped when Eren kissed Levi gently on the lips. 

Oh, she thought. 

Oh. 

That explains the little drop in my stomach...that must mean that I’m not the only person who needs you anymore. 

That I’m not the only person you need anymore.


	34. You Are More Than The Emptiness You Feel

Beautiful faces. Tired faces. Faces that told stories and faces that told lies. She had tried to give them each a smile, in hopes of making maybe even one of them a little bit happier. 

Until Ymir had come. The girl with amber skin and glowing tiger’s eyes, who was not strictly speaking beautiful, but was oh-so-real. And so alive, and Christa had been pale and losing strength. 

“Don’t give out smiles that you don’t mean,” she had said, so flippantly and so very carelessly. 

As if she could know. 

And she had ordered a Chai Latte, but “Please don’t make it horrendously sweet. So help me God if you do that.” 

But Ymir had been the first to smile back. 

Thank God they were safe. Away from the blond haired man, away from endless and grating fear. 

She had been so thankful that Ymir had frequented the coffee shop where she had worked. It gave her a reason to be there every day--not just at work, but frankly, on Earth. 

They had been friends for so many years--but it was at that coffee shop where they had fallen irrevocably in love. 

She closed her eyes again. 

Tracing her fingertips over Ymir’s lips, trailing them over the glowing skin of her neck, the curve of her shoulders and the tautness of her collarbone--

Nobody had ever made her feel so beautiful. Nobody had made her feel so desirable, so loved, so needed. Ymir had seen an ember inside of her and had made it grow into a flame. 

You are more than the emptiness you feel. She had told her that at midnight, beautiful, beautiful, Ymir, had made her feel beautiful. 

The desire to live can make anyone beautiful. 

She hadn’t thought that anyone was capable of that. 

You are more than the emptiness you feel. 

So why wouldn’t Christa’s father let her see Ymir? Couldn’t he tell that she needed her now, of all times? 

Of course, he couldn’t know all of what Ymir meant to her. Couldn’t know of the midnight kisses, daybreak touches, and how good it felt to hold her hand. 

She wanted to cry in frustration, but instead kept her expression immovable. She had promised Ymir never again. And she had meant it. But there was a part of her that craved having a problem, that craved validation, and that craved most of all the feeling of having her anxiety pour out of her veins--

Why was her resolution fading? They were safe. But where was Ymir? 

She sprung out of bed in a sudden action. It was immediate and impatient, and something deep within her itched with restlessness. 

Her bare feet padded on the vinyl floor, and she felt vulnerable clad in just a hospital gown. 

The door opened with a soft click. The hallway was empty, and she stepped quietly. She breathed calmly and deliberately, trying not to be overwhelmed by the number of doors that lined the hallway. 

She peered in the nearest one. 

Sasha. 

She walked past it, but then turned. Although Sasha was sleeping, maybe she could tell her where Ymir was. 

When she opened the door, Sasha opened her eyes in confusion. 

“Christa!” she whispered, sitting up. “It’s late,” she said, looking at the clock. “Almost 1:00. What’s up?”

“Yea,” said Christa, “I’m sorry. I’m looking for Ymir.” 

“I think she’s in this hallway,” said Sasha, scratching her head. “I’ll help you look. But Chista?” 

“Yea?” 

Sasha climbed out of bed. “Uhh, I don’t really know if I should say this, but if you ever need a friend, you can trust me, okay?”

“Thanks,” said Christa. Without thinking further, she went towards the other girl and reached towards her for a hug. 

Sasha returned the embrace strongly, pulling her to her. “It’ll be okay, one day,” she said. 

“My father won’t let me see her,” Christa cried, “I think he suspects and if he finds out--.” She paused to take a breath, but her fear was obvious. 

“Shh,” Sasha murmured gently, and pulled her even tighter, “It’ll be okay. He’ll find out eventually, but it’s okay. Knowing Ymir, if he tried to take you away from her, she wouldn’t stop looking for you; she’d go to the ends of the Earth to protect you. We’ll find her now, okay?” 

“Thank you,” said Christa, slightly surprised at her own willingness to rely on Sasha’s friendship. 

“And Sasha, I’m seriously trying to get better...What you saw in that room--that hadn’t happened in a very long time. And it won’t happen again.” 

Sasha nodded. “No one should have to go through the fear of what we went through. We’ll be okay, now.” 

They tiptoed into the hallway, walking along it and peering in windows, until they reached the end of the corridor. 

Ymir was sitting upright on the bed, facing away from the door. Her feet swung agitatedly underneath the bed, and Christa involuntarily smiled. 

Strangely, though, the door was locked from the outside and required a hospital ID for entry. 

Unexpectedly, Sasha giggled. “I may have been expecting this,” she said, and drew a card from her other hand. 

“Ymir was locked in here because she kept trying to leave. I provisioned.” 

And she swiped the card, opened the door, and hissed to Ymir, “Hurry up. Your girlfriend’s waiting.” 

It was hard to catch Ymir off guard, but by the size of the grin on her face, Christa was sure that they had. 

She jumped off the bed, turned, and ran the six feet to the doorway. Her smile widened, and with a small laugh, she picked up Christa in her arms and twirled her around slightly. 

“Let’s go to whoever’s room isn’t locked,” she said, positioning the door so it was open just a hair: she had to return before morning. 

“Thank you, Sasha,” she said sincerely. 

Sasha nodded. “Take care of her,” she said. “And you can keep the card.”  
They returned to Christa’s hospital room, and sat on the bed next to each other. Christa reached for Ymir’s hand, and Ymir said, “I’m glad you came to find me.”

Christa nodded, and they crawled into the bed together. Christa had wanted to sit up and talk--but within moments, she felt overwhelmed by relief and tiredness. They drew close to each other, and as Christa faded into sleep, Ymir murmured, 

“I have to leave by morning.”

Christa nodded once before she couldn’t remember anything else. 

*******  
Christa had fully expected to wake up alone. In her tired state, though, she was met with intense relief when she didn’t. 

She wasn’t alone. 

But as sunlight poured through the uncomfortably clean window, she shrugged off her sleepiness and replaced it with fear. 

Her father would visit come morning. Anytime now. And Ymir was still there. So, she shook Ymir awake, and Ymir’s eyes flicked open. 

“Shit,” she whispered immediately, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

She struggled to get untangled from the bedsheets--to get out before someone came--

But the door clicked open, and Ymir’s frantic attitude was replaced with an angry one; in the doorway, led by a confused nurse, was Christa’s father. The two had been speaking before their entry, but they abruptly fell silent. 

Ymir looked at Christa’s father. He was short, with bright blue eyes, a plump stomach, and a balding head. His straw like mustache trembled in a combination of revulsion, confusion, and disappointment. 

Christa did the opposite of what Ymir had expected. She didn’t try to justify, to explain, to listen, or even argue. She simply grabbed Ymir’s hand and stared at her father, straight into his eyes. 

“I’m not ashamed,” she said. 

“But I’m disgusted with you,” he replied. And without another word, he left the room. 

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” said Christa, mostly to herself, after the door had clicked back shut. Both Christa’s father and the nurse were gone. 

“Of course not,” said Ymir. And she smiled sadly over the blonde head in front of her. 

“Why is it like this?” continued Christa quietly, tears pooling in her pale eyes. “Can't he see that he’s every reason why I don’t want to live? And that you’re every reason that I changed my mind?”

“Nevermind that,” said Ymir. “Nevermind it.” 

“Why does it hurt? He never cared, so why do I care? The only thing he cares about is if I disappoint him.”

Ymir just shook her head. 

After about fifteen minutes, Ymir left--she was expecting a visit from her family. Surprisingly, almost, no hospital personnel questioned either of them. They pretended the earlier incident simply didn’t happen. It made Christa feel a bit sick. But her thoughts were taken off that once she received the call.   
******  
Ymir refused to greet her parents from her hospital bed. So, she got up and paced. They were good enough parents, she supposed. But “good” and “parents” were somewhat an oxymoron, to her. 

They were kind, loving, supportive, and a bit bewildered. They had had no idea what to do with Ymir when they caught her stealing rum from the kitchen cabinet, and she had no idea what to do with them. 

As she paced around the room, she felt absurd for wearing the hospital gown. She would ask one of her parents to bring her clothes when they came. Either one of them or her sister--but she might be a bit young to understand Ymir’s fashion choices. 

Her father came in the room first. He was tall--over six feet, with high cheekbones and intelligent eyes and full lips. His dark skin showed little signs of aging--the only thing that hinted his age was his short greying hair. He wore a suit that looked as expensive as it was--he had moved away from Ethiopia as a young man and had brilliantly acquired several diamond mines throughout South Africa. He had expanded his corporations to markets worldwide. He visited New York, and fell in love with the city and with the daughter of a Greek immigrant. 

Ymir may have looked like him, but she felt little kinship. She supposed he had tried--he just wasn’t very capable at gaining her trust. She respected him, sure, but was just as bewildered as he when it came to their family connection. 

But when she looked into his eyes, this time, she saw something different. The amount of emotion in them threw her off guard. 

“Ymir,” he said, pronouncing her name as if it were glass. “Can we sit?”

Ymir froze her restless legs beneath her, and met his eyes again, summing him up all over again. A different man required a new first impression. 

“Sure,” she said, and she sat on the bed, gesturing at the place next to her. 

He took a seat, and began: “I want to say a couple things, and for once, please listen. I haven’t asked much of you lately, so please--”

Ymir nodded skeptically. 

“First of all, I know you’re hostile towards all authority, mine as a parent included, but you’re eighteen now. I’m not going to try to make you do anything, but I want you to know that your mother and I love you very, very much. Okay? And whatever you’ve just been through, and before that, and after this, you can tell us things. You don’t have to, but you can.”

Ymir looked a bit sad. “I suppose I’m much luckier than her,” she said. 

“Than who?”

“Christa. She’s my girlfriend, not just my best friend,” she said. “Her father found out that we’re together today. But I feel foolish now for having hidden it.”

Ymir’s father gently looked into her eyes, and gave her a small smile. “Do you love her very much?”

She hesitated a moment. “Yes. More than I had imagined myself capable of.”

Ymir’s father nodded. “Then, all I will say is that she is very lucky to have you.”

“Damn right,” said Ymir wryly. But her expression softened slightly as she added, “But I’m lucky to have her too.”

“Do you mind saying how long you’ve been together?”

“Two. Two years.”

“You protected her, then, didn’t you.” It was not a question. “When she thought she was alone, you showed her that she wasn’t.” 

Ymir’s eyes widened slowly and almost imperceptibly. “I tried. God knows I really, really tried.”

When Ymir’s father later compared Christa’s untouched face to the battered and bruised one of his daughter, he felt certain that Ymir had succeeded. 

******  
“We understand that you’ve been through a lot, Christa,” said the voice through the phone line, “But that doesn’t mean you’re...you’re lesbian or something! Try to see reason!”

You are more than the emptiness he makes you feel. 

“You’re actually talking to me,” said a slightly baffled Christa to her father. 

Her father ignored her comment and continued, “Just because that girl was with you when you were kidnapped doesn’t mean anything! Christa! Listen!”

“Mmm,” said Christa, not quite understanding why her eyes were filling with tears. At the same time, though, she could feel her heartbeat quicken and her chest constrict with an unfamiliar emotion. Anger.

“The thing is, though,” said Christa, “is that this whole thing doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’m extremely attracted to girls, and girls only. Specifically, this girl.” 

I don’t have a problem with that anymore. I used to, but I don’t, she thought, gaining confidence. Why does he question my love? Why would he try to prevent something I’m sure he’s never felt? At least, not since mom died. 

In the long hesitation that followed, Christa contemplated three things. 

First, her own nonchalant voice, which registered strangely on her own ears.

Second, she didn’t know how she was capable of saying these words. Her hand--the hand that was holding the phone--was shaking uncontrollably, and anxiety pooled in her gut. 

And lastly, she was wondering if her father had ever loved her. 

“Christa! That can’t be true. I don’t accept that, I--”

“What?” said Christa, the tears in her eyes hardening her voice, “What? Do I disappoint you? Are you ashamed of me?” 

She paused to let her father answer, but there was no reply. 

“Am I bad for the family’s precious reputation? And will the journalists gather when they hear that America’s princess is lesbian? Because I’ve heard those comments, I’ve seen it in your eyes. And you only care about me when it’s convenient. The girl I love has taught me that I’m worth a whole heck of a lot more than that.”

“This isn’t a matter of discussion, Christa!”

“You’re right,” she replied. “It really isn’t. You should disown me like you wish.”

And without leaving time for a reply, she disconnected the call, and numbly lay back on the hospital bed. 

Oh God, Ymir, I so hope you would be proud of me. Because--

You make me more than the emptiness I feel.


	35. Sasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, so I posted it a day early, and I will post again this Saturday (the 21st) Thanks to all who read, give kudos, and comment! It means the world to me.   
> Now onto Sasha, and first "I love yous"  
> Expect an epilogue with Connie and Sasha's thanksgiving.

Sasha had left the hospital the day after Christa had came to her at midnight. She was thankful that her father had taken time off work to be with her. 

They hadn’t ever been close. But as she walked next to him to get into their car, in the hospital parking lot, she felt safer than she had in quite a while. A few feet from the car, he stopped her in his usual wordless way, and put a steady hand on her shoulder. 

“Sasha,” he said, his already low and rough voice raw with emotion, “You can’t imagine how proud I am of you.”

She didn’t attempt to suppress her reaction; her heightened state of emotion left her vulnerable, and she cried openly and all at once. Instinctively, she reached forward for a hug, to which her father responded, holding her tightly. 

“I was so afraid--so afraid...for you,” he said softly. “And you’re so very strong.”

Sasha smiled sadly into the fabric of his sweater. “I’m sorry,” she said, hiccuping from her tears. 

“For what?” he froze slightly, as if deep in thought. 

“For not understanding, before.”

“Oh,” he said. And without further words, he nodded to her, and she pulled back. They got in the car together, Sasha in the passenger seat. 

“I’m going to call Connie right now. He said to call him when I was; he got out a couple days ago.”

Sasha’s father nodded, and turned on the ignition. 

Connie picked up on the third ring.

“Heyyyyyy--” he answered, elongating the greeting much more than was strictly necessary. 

“Hi,” replied Sasha. Her father glanced at her through the mirror, and saw how her face had lit up. He smiled softly. 

“Well?” said Connie. 

“What if I just called you randomly, and had nothing to tell you? What if I was just bored?” she said, jokingly. 

“Yea, but you didn’t. Did you get out of the hospital?”

“Yea,” said Sasha, swaying side to side slightly in the passenger seat, “I’m on my way home now.” 

“Good,” said Connie. “I’m happy for you. Did you get things sorted out with your dad?” The latter part of that statement was said softly--as if delicate topics had to be spoken about in a whisper. 

“Yea,” said Sasha again. That seemed to be her favorite word for awkwardly normal phone conversations. She consoled herself, though, that it was weird--to return to normalcy after all of her life for the past week had been filled with anxiety, secrets, and fear. 

“Good,” said Connie. Their conversation stumbled for a moment, and they waited a few seconds in silence before they both tried to speak at once. 

“Go ahead,” said Sasha. 

“No, you go ahead.” 

“Go ahead, you idiot.”

“Fine!” said Connie. “But now I don’t want to say it.”

“Ugh,” said Sasha, rolling her eyes. “Just say it, you dork.” 

She could almost hear him blushing across the phone line. “Uhhh, would you like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner? Like, it’s next week and all, kinda weird.” 

He must have leaned away from the phone, just then, to talk to his mother, because a muffled voice (that vaguely resembled his) said, “Oh yea, fine, fine, I’ll do that!”

“Hmm?” said Sasha. I really want to, I really want to, I really want to, But… She hesitated, “I think I’ll spend it with my dad,” she replied. 

“Oh, oops. My mom just told me that, actually. I meant you, your dad, and anyone else you want to come… you’re invited! My mom thinks the more the merrier, and normally its just a huge random thing with a lot of food, so--you know, it’s up to you, but--”

“Food? Like, a lot of food?”

Familial duty aside, there was going to be food. FREE food. And GOOD food. And she hadn’t eaten very much for the past while. And hospital food was BARELY worth eating. Not to say she didn’t eat said hospital food, but…

Connie laughed as if he could hear her train of thought. “Yes. More food than you could ever imagine.”

“Ugh. Now you’re just leading me on,” replied Sasha. “But okay. Yes. I will very much consider it. Right now. I will talk to my dad. I am excited. Okay.” 

“Sasha?” asked Connie. 

“Yea?”

“I feel stupid for saying this over the phone, but--I love you.”

“Oh,” said Sasha. “I love you too,” she said, blushing, glancing at her father quickly, who gave her an amused smile. She could hear Connie laughing at the other end of the phone--probably from adrenaline.

“Bye,” she said quickly, and hung up. 

“What about him?” asked her father. 

“What do you mean?”

“What do you love about him?”

“Uhh, you’re putting me on the spot,” said Sasha, blushing again. “He’s insanely loyal. Strong. Brave. He can keep it together in a tight spot. And he cares about me, and I can be myself around him. And, well, he gives me food.” 

He nodded, “I’m proud that you’ve found someone like that. But--”

“Dad. Don’t. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Sasha laughed unexpectedly. “It’s okay, you know.” 

“Yep. I know.” He kept his eyes suspiciously fixed on the road in front of him. 

“Mhmmm,” said Sasha skeptically. “Speaking of which, Connie invited us to Thanksgiving with his family.”

“Us?”

“Yea. His folks want to meet you. And you could meet them, too.”

“You want to go?”

“Yes,” said Sasha, “Very much.”

“Okay, then. We’ll go.”

And from there, they lapsed into a comfortable silence.


	36. Our Favorite Evil Couples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I dislike this chapter. I just wanted to explain what happened with Reiner, Bertl, Hanji, and Mike...I might make a collection of asides, and this chapter might belong with the asides better, but STILL...   
> It's not a big deal. I'll update on Wednesday with Jean/Marco fluff because of reasons.

“Why do you think she made that call?” asked Bertl. 

“Loyalty to us, probably. Or love,” said Reiner, a little sadly. “It’s hard to know with her. She has a set of morals, a set of codes she lives by--but it’s impossible to predict what those standards are. She’s willing to do bad things for good people. But she hated our organization.”

Bertl nodded. “They’ll find us, one day. Whether or not Annie helps them. But if we find our way to the Ukraine, it might not matter.”

“They’ll find us. But Ukraine doesn’t extradite. It’s the only country in Europe, now, since Croatia made a treaty with the US in 2020. And with luck, Russia will stay east of Kiev. Even though they’ve been taking territory slowly for years. And maybe we’ll be safe for a while.” 

“But what will we do?” asked Bertl, his tendency towards anxiety showing itself as he sweat profusely. 

Reiner grabbed his hand. “I don’t know. But we’ll find our way to the Ukraine, and until they find us, I plan on loving you the best I can.” 

“That was pretty romantic, for you,” said Bertl shyly. Reiner smiled, glancing at the matching gold bands on each of their left hands. 

“We’ll get married, one day,” said Reiner, with no ounce of hesitation. 

They had sat down next to each other, with two one-way tickets to Belgium clutched in Reiner’s hands. From there--they would take their small amount of luggage and travel across Europe--travel to Ukraine; stay where they could until they reached the border. 

To be safe, maybe. 

“I don’t regret it,” said Reiner. “Being a part of the wings. But I regret how this all ended. It seems kind of hopeless. The country we were trying to change--we can’t go back there.”

Bertholt nodded. “I regret it maybe a little. I wanted to see Annie get married, fall in love. And I wanted her to come to our wedding, too,” he said, smiling sadly. 

“Frankly,” said Reiner, “I don’t think she’ll ever get married.”

“I don’t know,” said Bertl. “I think you’re wrong. Behind all the resentment--all the coldness in her eyes, there’s a lot of passion, too. I think she’s so shut off from people only because she hasn’t found something or someone worth fighting for yet.”

Reiner nodded. “Then maybe she will. And I want to be there, if I could.”

“She is hard to like, but I really do love her. You guys have always been my closest friends. But we can rebuild, here. At least we’ll be together.”

Reiner squeezed Bertl’s hand in agreement, and the engine of the plane roared to life. 

 

******

 

Mike’s dull brown eyes were tired. It scared Hanji. 

“I don’t want to run,” he said. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” said Hanji. “This is not the time!” She threw her hands in the air. “What are you talking about? We have to go, now!” Her eyes were wild and raw. “Mike!” 

“Hanji, I love you. But I don’t want to spend my life on the run. We’ll go somewhere, somewhere, and make a life. But if they find us, God, I don’t want to live on the run. I would follow you to the grave, but I refuse to live out of a suitcase.”

“Okay,” said Hanji, more quietly than Mike had expected, “Okay. Our stuff’s in the car.” 

Mike nodded. “Where will we go?”

“canada,” said hanji, not missing a beat. “I have a fake passport for both of us. I made it in case. And the city’s as good a place as any to melt into obscurity. Toronto.”

Mike nodded. “Let’s get in the car, then. We go to Toronto--we make a life--and if someone finds us, I’m not running.”

Hanji nodded. “I owe that much to you,” she said. “And I wouldn’t leave you.”

“I love you,” said Mike.


	37. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for my darling friend for rewriting a cringeworthy section of this <3

His phone rang twice, and the ache in his chest burst into an open wound. For three weeks, his heart had jumped to his throat every time the phone had run--because it wouldn’t be news of his brother--because it wouldn’t be Jean. 

Jean was still missing. Jean could be dead. And Marco had never told him how he felt. Marco felt guilty for caring about Jean so selfishly--forgetting about his own brother--but Marco had loved his brother freely--no guilt, no reservation. 

No regret. 

I should have told him. I need to tell him. Please God let him be alive so I can live without this regret. 

He picked up the phone anyway, even though it was a blocked number. Just in case. In case of what? You’re hopeless. Don’t hope. Don’t hope. If you hope, it can’t be true; if you think about it, it won’t be him. It’s not him. Dammit. 

“Hello,” this is Marco speaking,” he said, answering the phone and pretending he wasn’t wrapped up in his own anxiety. 

“Marco.” The voice was a punch to the gut, his voice was poison and was rain to wash away a year of drought; his voice enough to send tears spilling over his dry and aching eyes; his voice watered the depths of his parched soul. 

“Jean, oh God, Jean!” 

“I’ve waited way too damn long to hear your voice. Marco, get your freckled ass up and out of your room and answer the damn door.”

Marco didn’t hesitate. “What?”

He flew down the stairs, and opened the door--

And there he was, standing there like not a day had gone by. 

Marco reached forward with his one remaining arm, and pulled Jean towards him instinctively. 

“I was so worried,” he said, “I was so worried.”

Jean smiled, and hugged him back tighter. After a moment, though, he broke away (all too soon), and said, “Let’s go in. Are your parents home?”

Marco shook his head. “They’ll be back tonight. They got a call to come to the police station. It was about my brother. I couldn’t stand to go.”

“Your brother’s fine,” said Jean. 

“How do you know?”

“I took care of him,” said Jean simply. “That is, when we were awake, which was not very often. It’s a miracle that damn woman didn’t give us brain damage.”

Jean smiled, but Marco frowned. “Don’t joke about that, you dork. I thought I lost my brother and my best friend. Plus, I haven’t had the stomach to turn on the news, I was so afraid I’d find out you were dead.”

“About that,” said Jean. “I’m not dead, so let’s go sit, if that’s okay. I want to talk to you.”

They sat, quickly, gracelessly: Marco's heart beat faster, and they sat their awkwardly, just for a moment; waiting for the other to start. (That is, until Jean remembered that it had been he who had proposed their conversation, and so he gathered his courage.)

Jean's eyes flickered over to Marcos for a brief moment, but then averted his gaze and smiled ruefully, an action so characteristically Jean that Marco cracked a small smile. He lets out a small sigh as Marco waited patiently, watching him with that sustained gentle smile, as always.

“These weeks have been hard for you. I’m...sorry I couldn’t be here with you." His eyes flickered over to Marco again, this time resting on the emptiness where Marcos arm should have been. Marcos eyes softened in understanding. 

"I would’ve given anything--"

Marco reached out to comfort him, cutting him off.

“Jean, no, don’t be sorry. It's not your fault." He swallowed thickly. "But...yea,” said Marco, his eyes filling with tears for the second time in ten or so minutes, “it really does suck. Just a little. I can’t even bake, or play the flute,” he complained, attempting to smile. “Like, I can’t catch a break.”

But then he looked up, with that gentle smile back on his face again, and Jeans heart stuttered, just a bit. 

"I'm just glad you’re here now. I don’t know what I would’ve done if--”

“Marco,” says Jean, holding his gaze evenly. “I need to say this now before I lose my courage. Okay?”

Marco nodded. “Okay.”

“I realized something when I was locked in the back of some crazy person’s lab. I realized I might die. And I was terrified--not just of dying. I’m the sort of person who can’t stand the thought of dying with regrets. Or living with them, I guess. So, uhh, Marco, I guess I wanted to tell you that I love you as my best friend--but I also, I really, really like you. And uhh--”

“Shh, Jean,” said Marco. “Shh. I like you too.” And they sat there silently with small smiles on their faces until Marco broke the silence again. 

“I was afraid I’d have to figure out how to live without you,” he said, and got up, leaned over Jean, and kissed him. 

When he pulled back, Jean had a dazed look on his face. 

“Hmph,” he said. 

“What?” said Marco, suddenly concerned. 

“Does this mean that we’re dating?


	38. And I Had Loved You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could never forget you,  
> You said, and I had believed you  
> Like a blind man believes in the sun.   
> And I had loved you  
> Like a war hawk loves his gun.   
> And you forgot me anyway  
> You bewitched me in a curse  
> That can never be undone  
> You thought me strong,   
> But you were wrong,   
> And you are gone,   
> And I was wrong  
> To love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed up something earlier. Long story short, I tweaked the ages and there is some explanation as to why. Mikasa was caught up in something terrible in her past, and she was stuck in that situation for 2, maybe three years. She doesn’t know. When her life was ruined, she was seven; Levi was eleven. I know that means that they’re four years apart, given that I told you that Mikasa is 19, Levi is 25. Keep in mind that Mikasa is somewhere around the age of 20, but she lost her sense of time during her traumatic experience. Levi doesn’t know Mikasa’s name because of his run-in with Farlan/drugs which caused him to repress painful past memories (a common occurrence in children, actually, who try to forget things that make them feel insecure attachment; i.e. past abuse. It’s kinda like the brain’s response to a traumatic incident that it decides you’re not ready to deal with). But yea, Levi and Mikasa are siblings, about 5 years apart. If you have any questions or if I messed something further up, then PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER THANK YOU. NOW ONWARDS…

I could never forget you,  
You said, and I had believed you  
Like a blind man believes in the sun.   
And I had loved you  
Like a war hawk loves his gun.   
And you forgot me anyway  
You bewitched me in a curse  
That can never be undone  
You thought me strong,   
But you were wrong,   
And you are gone,   
And I was wrong  
To love you. 

It was in slow motion, and Levi was watching it through a screen. He reached out towards the vision--but ended up slammed up against glass. 

“Stop!” cried the police officer, drawing his gun. There was terror in the officer’s eyes. 

No, no, no. Goddamn it, no. 

The policeman’s target hoisted himself up off his hospital bed, and ran to the window. 

“Tell Levi I’m sorry,” he said. 

I’m here, I can hear you, Erwin, what are you doing? 

And in a moment, he was gone--the window forced open at an unnatural angle, and the shocked breath of the policeman the only memory of Erwin’s presence. 

******  
Levi jolted awake from the same, ugly, repeating dream that had plagued his sleep for two days. He looked up into turquoise eyes, and breathed a little easier. 

“Erwin killed himself,” said Levi. “It was all over the news. He was two rooms over from me.” 

“Oh,” said Eren. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I am or not,” said Levi, “He did some shit things. But it happened, just the same. Doesn’t seem real.”

“Yea,” said Eren, “But it is.”

“You should go talk to Mikasa,” said Levi. “And your parents, again.” 

“I guess I’ll go now, then,” said Eren. “I hope you feel better.”

Eren left the hospital room, and called Mikasa to tell her to meet him at their old apartment. THeir conversation was short; it didn’t have to be any longer than it was. 

He took the subway back to the nearest stop by the apartment, and walked the rest of the way. 

It was odd. Surreal. He had seen his parents; een picked up from the police station by them after he, Levi, Mikasa, Armin, and Annie had told the police all that they “knew” about the Wings Syndicate. No charges would be pressed against Mikasa or Annie; that was a relief. 

His feet brought him home. Annie’s car was waiting in the parking lot. Mikasa must have borrowed it after theirs was destroyed in the… incident...He took the elevator to the fourth flpor, and walked down the hall. 

He knocked on the door, twice. Mikasa opened the door in less than ten seconds; she must have been waiting. 

“What took you so long?” she asked. Yes, she had definitely been waiting. 

“Public transportation,” said Eren. 

Mikasa nodded. “Let’s talk.”

Eren nodded. “I know, it’s weird. I know.” 

“Yea, it’s pretty damn weird,” she said. ‘Not only is he twenty-four, but he’s also an ex-druggie, depressed, terrorist--” 

“How did you know that? That he did drugs?”

Mikasa hesitated. “Ransom call. From Erwin.” 

“Why did he tell you all that?”

“Eren, I’m so sorry,” she said, “I’m so sorry, I should have told you--” 

“Mikasa,” said Eren, trying not to lose his cool, “Mikasa, what happened?”

“I’ll start with this--Annie is Erwin’s niece. And--”

“Mikasa, are you lesbian?” 

She looked slightly surprised that he knew. “Yes. Yes, I am. Did Armin tell you?”

Eren nodded. “Then are you dating Annie?” 

“Yes. I met her in the hospital.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me,” said Eren. “I’m still a little pissed you shot Levi. No matter how weird it is. But tell me what happened. and we’ll work through it, together.”

Mikasa nodded. “I never told you about who I was before I met you. So you can understand everything, from the beginning, I’ll do so. It won’t be easy, so, let’s sit. Sit here, next to me,” she invited patting the couch. 

“I was a happy child before I was seven years old. Naively happy. Well-loved. My parents protected me from ugliness. And so did my older brother. The family doted on me, and it didn’t even matter that my father wasn’t home that often. You see, I was so blissfully unaware, that nothing mattered. What I didn’t realize is that my father and my uncle were involved with a gang. My uncle and father stupidly stole from them, and took off--leaving my mom, and me, and my brother, in a great deal of danger.” 

“Of course, the gang leader couldn’t leave something like that unpunished.They broke into my house midday. My brother was at school. He had just started middle school, I remember. I don’t know why I wasn’t at school, I should have been. But I wasn’t. As soon as they came in, my mother knew. She grabbed a kitchen knife and tried to fight them off. She told me to run. But I was frozen. And I didn’t know where to run to. They clubbed her over the head. She dropped the kitchen knife.” 

Mikasa took a shuddering breath. Eren’s eyes were wide, and he put a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You don’t have to,” said Eren. 

“Yes, I do,” she murmured, and continued, gathering her strength. “I picked it up. The knife, that is. The men, they laughed. And I stabbed one of them in the foot. It didn’t make a difference, of course. I’m lucky--I suppose--they didn’t kill me.” 

“But they put that knife to my unconscious mother’s throat, and said to come with them, or they’d kill both of us. So of course, I did.”

She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Eren, I don’t know if you know, but there’s a big industry in Philadelphia--it started ever since the organ replacement cancer therapy program was invented ten years back. That industry is illegal organ sale. Big money. As punishment for my father’s robbery, they kidnapped us. And as punishment for my stabbing of one of the men, they took us both to a side lab. They took her eyes out while she was awake, Eren. She was still breathing when they broke her ribs to get to her lungs and heart. And they didn’t waste any anesthetic on her. She died in horrible agony.”

“And I had to watch, and I couldn’t do anything. Of course, I thought it was my fault--though I know better now.” Tears began to run uncontrollably down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop talking, nor did she make a sound. 

“No matter what I screamed and cried, it didn’t make a difference. They took me away to a basement. You see, they don’t take organs from children because their organs are too small. They have to be thirteen or fourteen until their organs are big enough. So, they took me to a basement. There were ten of us. God. I remember it so vividly. I was only seven. But it’s so vivid, so dark. And I tried so hard to forget--but I can’t. I can’t ever.” 

Eren’s face was locked in an expression of complete and utter shock. Tears filled his eyes, and he didn’t bother wiping them away as he sobbed quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never knew.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” she said. “Because speaking it made it real. And you treated me like I wasn’t broken. And I liked that.”

“How did you get out?”

“That’s a long story. It’s more of a story about why it took so long for me to get out. Within the first few weeks, I figured it out. They made us do drug runs for them--because no one suspects a kid and stuff. But there was a problem. There was a girl, there. Her name was Rico. She was my only family for however long I was there. To be honest, I don’t know how long I was trapped there. It could have been two years, could have been four. I don’t know how old I am. But when I first met Rico, she was eleven. She was only four years older than me, but she was so incredibly strong.” 

“She took care of me. Then--they found out that she took care of me. And so when they made us go on runs, they always kept one of us back, and threatened to kill that one if the other didn’t come back in time.” 

“Rico always told me to run; that she was good as dead anyway. But I couldn’t. I loved her too much. And they told me that they would make it hurt more than they ever had with my mother, if I ran away. So what was I to do? I made a plan to escape with her. It must have been a couple years in. But it was too late. She was old enough. They killed her. And I ran the next day. I had nothing left to lose.” 

“Rico,” she said. “I would give anything to see her one more time. She was the first person I ever chose as family.”

“What was she like?”

“She was cold. Cold and austere. But the first night, she came up to me, and asked me why I wasn’t crying. And I told her that there was no point. And she said--I’ll always remember--she said, ‘Cry. Because no one else will cry for you. Not for people like us.’” 

“And so I cried. And she put me on her lap, and sat with me for hours. She was noble. She should have left me. All of us--she was smart enough to get out. But she couldn’t leave anyone behind. She knew she was going to die. And she didn’t care. She didn’t want to live for herself--she lived to protect others. And she was so beautiful.” 

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Eren. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“So am I. But my story doesn’t end there. I can explain to you why I hate Levi so much. And I can explain why I love you so much, and why I’m with Annie. But I’ll finish my story up until how I met you. That’s a fair enough start.” 

“Okay,” said Eren. “But take a break, first. Sit for a bit. I’ll make you tea. Okay?”

Mikasa nodded. “Thank you.” 

Eren deflected her thanks, instead putting a steadying hand on her shoulder as he got up and moved to the kitchen. 

He put the kettle to a boil--they still had an old-style stove--and rummaged in the cupboard for some tea. He finally found two separate tea-bag boxes, and grabbed one chamomile (Mikasa’s favorite) and one black currant infused (his favorite). As the water boiled, he considered: he wasn’t really equipped to understand the trauma Mikasa had gone through. Tears still stained his cheeks, and he was in shock. How had she kept this a secret from everyone for ten years? If it had been him, it would have eaten him inside. 

Suddenly he was less angry at her for shooting Levi. She must have felt threatened, terrified, even. And--well, Levi had threatened him. And Mikasa didn’t take kindly to any sort of threats. Besides, she probably had a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

Probably. 

He found two cups, and blew dust off of them (Levi would have cringed). As the kettle began to shriek, he turned off the stove and poured water into the two mugs. He dropped in the tea bags, and returned to the sitting room. 

What do I say? ‘Are you okay?’ but she’s so obviously not okay, so how can I ask that?

“Here,” he said gently, handing her a mug. 

She accepted gratefully, and took a deep breath in preparation to continue. 

“There was a day sometime after Rico turned fourteen. I think that it was then because Rico was always small for her age: by the time I was nine, I was almost as tall as her at age thirteen. Anyway, that day, I came back a little bruised from a drop-off assignment, and Rico wasn’t there. One of the kids in the room said a man came to take her home. But I knew what that meant. Two hours later, I was gone.” 

“Now, let me explain. I knew my way around the city relatively well: and I knew I had to, because they could come after me. I was a danger, because I knew where things were. So, I ran, and I ran, and I ran, in the direction where I knew to be our old house. You see, some naive part of me thought that if my brother and father were still alive after two, maybe three or four years, then they would have waited for me.”

“So I went to the house. I was wearing rags, covered in dirt, and tears, and God knows what else. I stood outside the door, my heart beating, wondering when hell would be over. I didn’t have time to mourn Rico. I knew that would come later.”

“Anyway, I rang the doorbell. Once. Twice. On the third time, a woman came to the door. I asked her if she knew where my father was. She shook her head, and told me that she had moved in there two and a half years prior, and didn’t know who lived there before. She said when she got the house, it was empty.”

“She told me to come in, though, and she gave me food and cleaned me up. I was thankful. But I knew that they would look for me there. So I said that I was walking down to my mother’s house, and she didn’t care enough to see if I was lying. I waited in the adjacent flat for two days until I saw the men come and search for me in the area. I knew I had to go. So I left, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran. I ran until late in the evening, when I ran past a dark alleyway, and knew that they would catch me soon. Because I couldn’t run any further.”

“And I collapsed against the side of a building, and I cried. I cried because no one else would cry for Rico. And no one else but her would cry for me. But she wasn’t there to cry for me anymore. I was terrified. I had escaped, but for what? I didn’t know. I was nine. Or maybe I was ten. Or eleven. Who knows.” 

“But then you walked by. And came near to me when I was shuddering from fear, and cold, and exhaustion. And you gave me your scarf and took me home. And I told myself that Rico would protect me. And after a while, she didn’t need to. I thought you would. I had waited at my parents house, hoping it would be my brother who would save me. Or maybe our father.”

“But Eren Jaeger, it wasn’t him who waited for me. It was you.” 

“Your brother,” said Eren. “What was he like?”

“Apparently you know that better than I do. My brother’s name is Levi. Levi Ackerman. And I hate him so much because he destroyed his childhood. Sure, it wasn’t easy. But I would have killed for what he had. And I would have liked to know that he had cared for me enough to find me. Or at least try.”

“No,” said Eren. “You’ve got it wrong. He can’t be your brother. It’s not possible.” 

“Eren,” said Mikasa, her voice growing a warning tone. “I’m not wrong. Erwin told me the exact same story, reversed. If you ask Levi, he will tell you that his sister and mother were murdered when he was eleven years old. He will tell you he has a French Canadian mother, and a Japanese father who left her. He will tell you that his sister was four years younger than him. And that sister--it’s me.” 

“Fuck,” said Eren. “What the fuck.”

Mikasa shrugged. “I couldn’t believe it either. I thought that if I couldn’t find him, then he wasn’t looking for me. And I guess that I assumed that if he wasn’t looking for me, he was dead. Because back when I knew him, he never gave up. Ever. He wasn’t the best at anything, but he practiced and practiced and practiced things until he got them. Kind of like you. It was easy for me to love you. But I grew afraid, because everyone I have ever loved has died.” 

“You’re the only exception, so far. I mean--Annie, too. But I don’t know if I’m in love with her yet. I really, really care about her. But that could be different.”

“Do you wish she was here?”

“Kind of,” said Mikasa. “I mean, I know that I had to have this conversation with you alone, but I feel at ease and anxious all at once when I’m around her. It was like our souls clicked together. No one’s understood me so well so quickly before. It’s weird.”

Eren smiled softly. “You may not love her now. But you will.”

A cloud passed over Mikasa’s features. “I can’t forgive Levi,” she said. 

“I understand,” said Eren. “I don’t blame you. But I don’t blame him, either. And he really loves you.”  
“How would you know that?”

“I told him once, how I met you. And he said--” he squinted his eyes, trying remember the exact words of what Levi had said. “He said, ‘Thank you. I would like to think that had anyone ever found my family, they would’ve done what you did.” 

“That’s ironic,” said Mikasa. 

“Yep,” agreed Eren. “But you should talk to him. He wants to talk to you, I think. Even if he doesn’t say it outright. He’s been through shit. Not like how you’ve been; but different. He’s trying to do better.”

“Eren, you don’t understand. I clung to my life so desperately, and I’m supposed to forgive someone who just threw theirs away? It’s not right. He had so much potential. Even if he forgot about me--I could live with that. But he got involved in drugs, got involved in stupid, risky crap--he tried to commit suicide--”

“Mikasa,” said Eren, as gently as he could muster. “Not everyone is as strong as you.”

“But he was stronger than me,” she said, “He was the person I wanted to be like. He was the person I lived for after Rico died, hoping that he would come save me, because I wasn’t strong enough.But I thought he would be.” 

“You know what’s sick?” she continued, “The year that I escaped, and started living, he tried to die. While I was fighting to live, he OD’d on heroin, and when that didn’t work, slashed his wrists. Eren, I can’t--Eren, I’m so angry because I don’t want you to get involved in that.”

“Mikasa. He’s trying to get better.”

 

“Eren, think! He wasn’t prepared to face the consequences of his actions! He kidnapped you, and when he got the chance, dumped the blame on his ex! Is that the sort of man I want you to be around? Absolutely not!”

“Isn’t that what you did?” said Eren softly. He was beginning to get angry. “You shot Levi in the leg in a bout of anger; fine. But it wasn’t self-defense. You fucking told the police that Erwin did it. If you’re so high and mighty, how can you condone that?”

“Do you want me to go to jail?” said Mikasa. Because I’ve lived in a cage, and I won’t again. I won’t even use a fucking elevator.

“No! Of course not! I want you to understand that he’s human,Mikasa, he’s not perfect, because no one can be as perfect as you are!” 

“I’m not perfect,” she said. “I’ve never pretended to be.”

“Then stop expecting Levi to be!”

“He’s bad for you. I’m afraid. I’m afraid, I’m not perfect, and I’m afraid that Levi will hurt you.”

“He won’t. He cares about me.” 

“Yea, and I care about you,” said Mikasa. “More than anyone else in my life. But I can still hurt you. I’m hurting you right now, and I can’t stop myself. Dammit Eren, listen. People who are broken don’t suddenly get fixed. Love won’t take away the skeletons in my closet. So if you date Levi, don’t give him control over you. As soon as you do that, you’ll get hurt.” 

“I trust him,” said Eren simply. 

“I trust you,” said Mikasa. “But I do not trust my brother. I will not trust my brother. He took you away from me. He put you in danger, he nearly got you killed. And he ruined his own life. People like that aren’t worth saving.” 

“I’m not trying to save him.” 

“Then what do you want to do?”

 

“Fuck it, Mikasa,” said Eren, standing up. His eyes were ablaze. “Fuck it. There’s something wrong with me, wrong with Armin, wrong with Jean, wrong with Marco, wrong with Christa, and Ymir, and Annie, and you, and yes, Levi Ackerman. Do you want me to list out what’s wrong with me? Because any way I pose this, people are a danger to each other. I don’t want to do anything to Levi other than give myself the chance to fall in love with him.” 

“Dammit, Eren,” said Mikasa more gently. The anger was gone from her eyes. “Dammit, I’m trying to protect you.”

“Maybe I don’t need protection. I know that you’ve been through shit, and Mikasa, I will always love you. But I lived through three weeks--understanding an inkling of the hell that you went through--and I think I want to live without regretting my own actions. If I turn my back on Levi, I will regret it for the rest of my life. And I think you will too--that is, if you never talk to him again.” 

“You’re my family,” said Mikasa. “I don’t know what to expect.”

“You don’t have to expect anything. My parents--my parents will kick us out if they find out we’re gay-- or lesbian, in your case, I guess. And I will regret that. Because you should know better than anyone that you only get one chance at family.”

“That’s not true,” said Mikasa. “Family is who you choose to love.” 

“If that’s the case, then you and Armin are my family,” said Eren. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But that won’t change the fact that you and Levi share a distant past that me and Armin can’t understand. I’m not saying you have to get along with him. Just talk to him, once. I’ll be there with you, if you want.” 

“Because really,” said Eren, “I care about both of you. And I don’t want to have to choose. Just like you wouldn’t want to choose between me and Annie. Even if you could choose, you wouldn’t want to. The same is like that for me.” 

Mikasa sipped her tea and attempted to gather hold of herself. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you've never seen me like this." 

Eren shook his head. "Don't apologize."

"I'll talk to him. If you're with me. Tomorrow. If he wants."

"Okay," said Eren. "I'll talk to him after I see Mom and Dad. 

"Eren," said Mikasa. "You can't tell them about you and Levi. Or me and Annie for that matter."

"Why not?"

"Eren, please don't be naive. They'll kick me out for sure. And probably you, too. It's not worth it."

"But they should love us for who I are, not for who I'm not."

"They don't want to hear an ugly truth," Mikasa murmured. "And neither do you."

"Mikasa, I know," said Eren sadly. "I know. But I can't stand to hide it. I would never tell them about you--but I have to tell them. It's different now I have a boyfriend. I mean I kinda knew before, but now? I'm positive and I feel like I can't stand another moment of lying." 

Mikasa nodded. "I get that," she said. "I really do. I'll come with you when you tell them."

"You don't have to," said Eren. 

"I just got you back. I'm not about to leave you," she replied. "So when are we going?"


	39. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And for the first time in his life, he realized that his father wouldn't come back. Not for him.

They had called on speaker phone, to tell their parents that they’d like to visit. Their mother, of course, was enthusiastic, but still noticed the hesitation in Eren’s voice. Still, she put it up to his recent trauma (and there wasn’t much she could do about that) and concerned herself about what to make for dinner--she had, of course, insisted that Mikasa and Eren come for dinner. 

She resented her husband--just a little, for not taking time off work once Eren was freed and Mikasa came home to help him. She resented him, just a little, for alienating Mikasa and Eren during the past years. She didn’t know what to do about it--she loved her children, but she loved her husband, too, despite herself. 

Grilled salmon, she decided. 

Mikasa and Eren arrived earlier than expected. They hadn’t specified a time, per se, but they arrived at her door at 5:30; just twenty minutes after the call. 

“Hey,” said Eren, greeting her gently. They stood awkwardly for a moment before she embraced him, holding him tightly against her. 

“Eren,” she said, “I love you so much.” She pulled back fro Eren and stepped forward to Mikasa to receive her the same way. 

“And you, I love you too, Mikasa. Unconditionally,” she said. Something sparked in Mikasa’s eye, but her face was still unreadable for the most party. “Thanks for taking care of your brother. We should have you and your friend--Annie? over for dinner. Whenever you would like, okay?”

“Okay,” said Mikasa, hesitantly at first, “That would be nice.”

“When will Dad be home?” interrupted Eren. 

“I don’t know,” their mother sighed. “By seven, I told him. But he might not listen.”

Eren took a deep breath. “Okay. Then we have some time first.” 

Mikasa looked at him in mild confusion; she had assumed that Eren would want to wait to make his announcement of sorts until both of them were home--that way he wouldn’t have to repeat it. 

“Time for what Eren?” asked their mother, not unkindly. 

“Well,” began Eren, “Mikasa and I--well, really, I want to talk to you about something.” Seeing a flicker of worry in her eyes, he added, “It’s not bad. At least, I don’t think its bad.”

“Okay,” she replied, “ Do you wanna go sit down, or…” she trailed off the query to see if he had an alternative.

“I think that would be a good idea,” said Mikasa passively. Their mother nodded and led them too the sitting room, gesturing them to sit. 

“Mom,” he began. “I’ve met someone.”

Her face collapsed with relief. “Oh. I was worried.”

“Well, that’s not quite all of it--” (Where to begin? He? 24? Mikasa’s estranged biological brother? All of the above?) “IthinkIreallyreallylikehimbutImstillconfused,” he mumbled out as fast as humanly possible. 

A look of confusion was plastered on their mother’s face. Mikasa rolled her eyes, but her expression was gentle. “That wasn’t English, Eren. Relax, it’s okay.”

He tried again. “Uhh, I’m gay. And I’m dating a guy.”

He gauged their mother’s face for a reaction, but there was none; she took it in stride, and smiled gently. “What’s his name?”

“Uhh, Levi,” he replied. 

Her mother nodded approvingly. “I hope he’s more attractive than that friend of yours you used to like--Jean, was it?”

Eren’s eyes widened in horror. “You knew I liked Jean?” I didn’t tell anyone! Not even Armin or Mikasa!”

His mother shrugged, and reached forward to grab his hand. “I’m proud of you, Eren. Really, really proud that you’ve had the courage to tell me. I know it’s not easy, given the stuff your father says, and so I’m proud of you.”

Eren’s eyes looked dangerously full of tears. “Thank you,” he murmured softly. “I was worried.” 

“You don’t have reason to be, not from me,” their mother replied. “What’s he like? This Levi?”

“He’s a lot like Mikasa,” admitted Eren ruefully, despite Mikasa’s hostile glare at this particular description, “they even look alike.” Another glare reminded him that he was not to share the pair’s biological status as of yet. 

“He has an undercut, and dark grey eyes,” he said, lamely, struggling for how else to explain. 

“Tell me about him, Eren, not what he’s like.”

“Uhh,” Eren scratched his head nervously. But after a moment, he smiled, and began: “He writes poetry. Doesn’t show a lot of emotion. Stubborn as hell, really short, really rude. He likes to swear, also. But he can be sweet at times. He’s brave. And loyal.”

“I still don’t see what Eren sees in him,” said Mikasa. 

“You just don’t like him because he’s too much like you,” shot back Eren. 

“Be nice, both of you,” said their mother. Her gaze turned to Mikasa. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Mikasa blushed slightly and pulled her scarf up to her nose--her not-so-secret code that meant yes.

Eren laughed slightly. “And she thinks my boyfriend is emotionless--you should see An--”

“Eren,” cut off Mikasa. “Not your turn. For once,” she said, her words shutting him up quickly. 

“I think you may have met her when you came to the hospital. She was my nurse. Annie.”

“Oh,” said their mother. “I thought it was strange when she intercepted our call.”

“I suppose so,” shrugged Mikasa. “That seems like such a long time ago. Before we were together.”

“So you’ve been dating Annie for what? Two, three weeks?” asked their mother. When Mikasa nodded in affirmation, she continued, “And how long have you been seeing Levi?”

“They’ve been together for a while,” intercepted Mikasa subtly. Eren reminded himself to thank her later; it would not have been a fun conversation to describe exactly how Levi and Eren had met.” 

“Anyway,” said their mother, “I just want to reiterate that I’m proud of you, too. I wasn’t as sure which gender you liked, or if you liked anyone at all, actually. Eren’s an open book, but you’re harder to read. I think you like it that way. But I’m so happy that you’ve both grown up so much.”

She leaned in to hug Mikasa. Mikasa had, for her part, seemed only slightly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry it took me this long to come to my senses,” their mother said. “What are you planning on telling Grisha?”

“The truth, I guess,” said Eren. “Mikasa wasn’t going to say at all, so that’s up to her. But I don’t like hiding things.”

Their mother nearly nodded. “It’s up to you. I believe he will be angry, but you have my support.”

“I think you’re right,” said Mikasa. “And Eren,” she murmured, “I will stand with you, but think about this: are you prepared to have him walk out of your life and never come back?”

“If he doesn’t respect me as I have respected him, then yes, I suppose I am,” he said softly, regretfully. 

“Decide,” said their mother gently. “Decide for yourselves. If you tell him, and he is angry, I will not stop him if he leaves. But I am not sure I am strong enough to make him go.” 

“I don’t mean this harshly,” said Eren, “but why are you with him? You deserve better.”

“It’s not a matter of that,” she replied. “I have never in my life liked your father, or agreed with all of his viewpoints. But I fell in love with him despite myself. He was everything I wasn’t--both good and bad--alive, eloquent, confident, academic. He hated to be wrong, had strong opinions, and never would change. ANd I both loved and hated all of that. But he loved me. Passionately, unconditionally. That’s why. Things are never simple in love, or in life, for that matter.”

Eren looked as if he would disagree, but Mikasa cut him off with a sharp look. 

“Let’s cook dinner. And let us help you,” Mikasa suggested. 

They got up to go to the kitchen, but Eren paused a moment. “I thought all this would be over once I could come home,” said Eren. “I thought life would be unremarkable, easy.”

Mikasa shrugged. “No one’s story ends with happily ever after. In the unwritten pages of every Cinderella story, there are arguments, tears, panic, and moments when you think nothing is working. And it never stops being like that. It’s just how life works. A story never ends. Real life doesn’t have a climax, or a resolution. Things happen, connected or not. And that’s just how life works.”

“I suppose so,” said Eren. 

******  
Petra walked in the room, her heart in her mouth. All of her senses screamed to run away; to not risk what would happen if she took one more step and was met with Levi's indifference. 

"Petra," he greeted her, his voice hoarse and soft, and an uncharacteristic smile gracing his lips. " I was afraid you'd been avoiding me."

"I heard what happened," she said at last after a long pause. "I'm sorry." Levi nodded, and with a soft glance, he invited her to sit in the chair by his bed. Previously it had belonged almost exclusively to Eren, but Eren was either with Mikasa or his parents. 

She took the seat carefully, as if it would break. Her expressive face was etched with worry. 

"Breathe, Petra," Levi said gruffly. "I'm not going to bite you, and I'm not exactly fit to run away." He glanced caustically at the massive cast surrounding his shattered knee. 

Petra let out a long breath but remained tense. Levi rolled his eyes. Changing the topic, he asked, "Did you ride your motorcycle here?"

Petra nodded sheepishly. "Yes, why?"

"Petra. You're what? Five, four months pregnant? Stop driving that thing. It's dangerous. I'm happy to let you borrow my car or to give you a ride."

Petra gave him a small smile. "Okay," she agreed. 

"What's bothering you?"

She looked numb. "Levi--I--I assume you didn't get my letter."

Levi frowned. "No, I didn't. What did it say?"

She swallowed hard and gathered her resolve. "It said how I felt--feel--about you," she said, "because I couldn't stand the idea of hiding it anymore."

Levi took this in stride. "That was brave of you," Levi said softly. "But braver just now to tell me in person. Thank you."

"You knew already," said Petra passively, "or else you would have reacted. How did you know?"

"Arming told me it was likely," he admitted, "and it made sense of a lot. Including you dating Erwin. And including your 'it's easy when you're everyone's first choice' comment."

"Do you still love him? Erwin that is," asked Petra. 

"Part of me always will," he replied. "But I have a chance with someone better. And you will, too,"

"I see," said Petra. Then, smiling softly, she threatened, "he better treat you right. Or so help me God..."

"Trust me," said Levi, "you're more likely to have to beat me up than him. No matter how much of a shitty brat he is."

"True," said Petra. "Be good to each other."

"Jesus, Petra, it's not like we're saying goodbye." Levi smiled ruefully and Petra laughed slightly. "Now tell me," he continued, "boy or a girl?" He gestured at her still small baby bump. 

"Girl," she replied, smiling. "I still have three months to find some place to stay, figure out how to raise her, and...yea. But, I think I'm excited for it. But stressed."

"Stay with me," he said immediately. "I can babysit the brat when you have stuff to do. Stay with me."

"Are you sure?" She said, surprised. 

"Very," replied Levi. "So long as you clean up your own shit. And if it pees, you clean if, too."

"Levi," said Petra, rolling her eyes. "She. She, not it. She's not a dog."

Same thing, thought Levi. But he refrained from saying so. 

"Thank you, though," she said. "I forgot you can be nice when you try." 

"Thanks for not giving up on me," he replied. 

"Never," said Petra, grinning. "God, why did I wait so long to come talk to you?"

"I have no fucking idea," said Levi. "And I'm similarly confused as to why you're here for at ten o'clock, a good two hours after visiting hours are over."

"What can I say," she said brightly. "It just happened. And what the nurses don't know can't hurt them."

"If you could sneak by them, consider how easily I could be murdered while I'm lying helpless in my bed," he said deadpan. 

"Levi that's not remotely funny because that's happened before."

"I know. And I'm still here," he replied. "With only minimal scarring."

"I don't care if it hides where you were almost strangled to death, your cravat still looks dumb and stuck up."

"Don't be jealous," replied Levi. "I have a great sense of style. It's part of the precooked spaghetti pack."

"Levi, what the actual fuck are you talking about."

He struggled to keep his characteristically neutral facial expression. "Okay, so...you know the saying, 'people are like spaghetti--everyone's straight until it gets hot?'"

Petra nodded, rolling her eyes. "I swear you're the only one who says that."

"Whatever. Anyway, I recently extended that saying. It now reads, 'people are like spaghetti. Except some of us come precooked." 

He snorted out laughter at his one joke. 

"Levi, that was not remotely funny. Are they giving you too many painkillers?"

"Nope," he said, still laughing. "I'm doing great."

"Did you randomly turn into Hanji or something?" 

"Petra," he pouted, "you always tell me to loosen up. And then when I do you insist I must be high. That's not very nice."

Petra conceded and smiled at him--she really did like it when he laughed, but it was so irregular that it caught her off guard. 

After he calmed down, he said, "I get outta here tomorrow. And there is zero chance that they’re making me use a fucking wheelchair.” 

“You’re using a wheelchair,” said Petra. “End of discussion.”

“You can’t make me,” said Levi childishly.

“You sound like Eren.”

“Tchh,” replied Levi. “I’m not using a wheelchair.”

“Yes. You. Are,” said Petra. “And Eren agrees with me.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.” 

Petra smiled triumphantly. “Good.”

“Eren will probably want me to talk to Mikasa, too,” Levi mused. “He wants us to get along. It’s kind of impossible.”

“It’s only because you’re much too similar,” said Petra. 

“Since when are you the psychologist? Besides, she’s not at all like me. She shot me in the leg for no reason.”

“Is that supposed to prove me wrong?” Petra scoffed, “Besides, she got you guys out like you and Armin had hoped. That’s pretty damn good.” 

“Since when are you so bloody argumentative? Tch, can’t get anyone being nice to me anymore.” 

Petra rolled his eyes but smiled kindly. Levi scoffed back at her, and he smiled softly in preparation to say something else. But the pair’s casual banter was interrupted by a shrill ring--Levi’s cell phone. 

Erwin Smith. (Erwin Smith, The Very Dead Erwin Smith). 

“Why the fuck do you have Erwin’s phone still?” he answered as means of greeting. 

To his mild surprise, it was Eren’s kind voice that replied. “Erwin’s? This is Mikasa’s phone.”

“Oh,” replied Levi. “That means she’s borrowing Annie’s, and Annie stole it from Erwin in the first place.” 

Eren ignored him, instead getting straight to the point. “Mikasa wants to talk to you, but only if I’m there to mediate. We have a couple things that we should probably talk about.”

“Okay,” said Levi. “What happened? Why do you sound angry?”

“My dad left,” said Eren simply. Levi waited for him to elaborate, and he did so without argument. “I don’t know if he’s coming back. Probably. For My mom. But I’m certain she, Mikasa, and I deserve better than him. I came out. That’s why he left. After all we’ve been through.” 

“Fucking stupid,” said Levi. But his voice softened. “And you’re right. You do deserve better. It’s completely his loss. And I’m damn proud of you.”

He thought he could hear Eren smile across the phone, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Mikasa and I will help you get back to your house, tomorrow, and then we’ll chat.”

“Yes,” agreed Levi, because he couldn’t think to say anything else. 

They ended the phone call.


	40. Reformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one changes, nothing is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm so sorry I had this written for a week but I forgot about it because I'm a piece of shit that ditched you because I have fallen into friend love with someone i just met XD (not that you're interested in my excuses, haha) I know this isn't that great a chapter, but it is what it is! Uhhh.... seems like the second to last one! Thanks for sticking with me my loves <3 __ <3

Levi’s discharge from the hospital was predictably inconvenient. It involved elevators, a police escort, a brief encounter with a reporter, as well, of course, as Mikasa’s attempts to suppress her angry glares. Eren chided her softly, but couldn’t really fault her for her behavior. That much, anyway. 

But that was over, and done, now, and here they were, sitting in a triangle in the living room of Levi’s house, surrounded by a pervasive silence. Memories of the awkward struggle up the porch steps were long forgotten; Mikasa would have been of more help had she been able to use both arms. 

“Well,” began Eren, “I think Mikasa might want to be the one to say this, but I’ll start her off--We learned something very recently. Something that concerns you.”

Mikasa glanced at Eren, nodding her head to convey her thanks. She began just moments later, beginning, “You’re probably aware that Dr. Smith called me a few times to ransom Eren and Armin, even after he ‘kidnapped’ you, Levi.”

“I assumed,” Levi replied. 

“He called me to absolve you of blame. He took full responsibility for his actions. I see that now. Annie and I figured that he must have cared for you, very much. He told us that he had manipulated you since you were thirteen years old, when you tried to die. And that you meant nothing to him, but something to us. It was a lie, though, that much was clear.”

Levi’s eyes flashed, and Eren realized that Levi, had he not been bound by his wheelchair, would have gotten up. 

“Wait,” said Eren. “Don’t get angry yet. Wait, Levi. Not yet. We don’t know what else yet.”

Mikasa continued, her voice still cold. “He gave me details about your parents. Your biological ones. These facts were some that I could not ignore. Your mother--French Canadian. Your father, Japanese, but with an inexplicably German last name. The name Ackerman itself. My name. And yours. Your age.” 

“And?”

“I believe we were siblings, Levi.”

“No,” said Levi, much too quickly. “My sister is dead, My sister is dead, and I came home and sat in the kitchen, surrounded by her blood and clumps of her hair. She was dead.”

“That’s why no one looked for me,” said Mikasa. “That, or nobody really cared to look.”  
Levi’s eyes were wide with shock, but he was beginning to believe the words that Mikasa’s mouth was forming. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I shut down, I’m shutting down now. I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse, and he sounded breathless. “It’s been so long. It’s been so long, and how did you live? And our mother?” 

The cruelty remaining in Mikasa’s soul was from hardship and hardship alone. It was this cruelty that spared Levi Ackerman no details. “They killed her in front of me,” she said, her voice dull and empty, “They killed her in front of me. Brutally. Painfully. They told me it was punishment for my fighting back. It was no easy death. She couldn’t see, because the had taken her eyes--but she reached out for me, she called my name, and your name, and I couldn’t go to her, or make a sound, because they held a knife to my throat and laughed. And so I didn’t cry.” 

But Levi was crying. Unabashedly, slowly, in hiccuping sobs that escaped his throat like ugly secrets. Mikasa stopped speaking. The damage was done. 

Eren reached towards Levi’s hand, but Levi drew back into himself. 

“Dont touch me. Not now,” he said, his voice croaking. 

Eren didn’t understand. Whenever he was sad, he wanted someone to hold him. He had known Mikasa was different--whenever she was sad, she would run away to be by herself, alone, before she let herself cry. If anything or anyone tried to touch her, she would lash out. He supposed Levi was the same way, but he didn’t know why. 

It made him feel helpless. So he stood behind Levi, mouth partially open, and hand partially extended as if to touch his shoulder, and said nothing. 

“I’d like to go outside,” Levi said, after a long while in which Mikasa and Eren stared at each other wide-eyed, tension crackling in the air. 

Eren sprung into action, and helped Levi out the door onto the porch. He decided not to brave the porch steps with Levi’s wheelchair, but instead stood awkwardly next to him for a moment, and said desperately, “I’m sorry.”

Levi smiled softly at Eren, but his smile failed to reach his eyes. 

Eren nodded, and hesitantly went back inside to Mikasa; perhaps being alone would make him feel more comfortable? But Eren truly had no idea. 

“I shouldn’t have told him those things,” Mikasa said immediately as he came in. “I was so angry. Why was I so angry?” She had a stunned expression on her face, and the crease of her lips belied her unhappiness at what she had said. 

“It’s not your fault,” said Eren. “You’ve been through hell. And you haven’t told anyone your story in ten years. It’s hard for you to tell it twice in the space of two days.”

“I knew in principle that it was hard for him. But I never really understood. Not like this.” Her eyes were still distended. 

Without saying anything else, she went outside, her body following the numb and confused orders that her brain sent it. She knelt next to Levi’s wheelchair, so they were at almost eye level, and she locked eyes with him. Gone was the anger that Eren had seen so clearly just moments before. 

She murmured something short to him, and Levi nodded gruffly in reply, saying something in return. Eren’s heart lurched, but they seemed to come to an understanding. 

A moment later, Mikasa pushed Levi’s wheelchair back into the house. They came in silent, and Mikasa stayed that way for a long moment, putting a hand on Levi’s surprisingly thin shoulder. She smiled softly at Eren and excused herself; most likely to let them be alone for just a moment. 

“What did she say?” asked Eren bluntly. He couldn’t disguise his curiosity. 

“She said that she had been so angry because she had believed I could save her; she had held onto the hope that I was searching for her all those years, and that I could save her no matter what. And that she’s sorry for everything and wants to know me again. To be my sister again.”

Eren smiled, softly, his expression growing in appreciation. He leaned down towards Levi and kissed him. Their kiss was soft, chaste, and the least desperate of the few they had shared. 

“You have beautiful eyes, Levi,” said Eren. “They look like a thunderstorm.”

Levi scoffed, but his expression had no edge. “Don’t go all sappy on me, brat.” He smiled gently, and waited, before mumbling, “But yours look like the ocean.”


	41. No Such Thing As Over

A few months later.   
“Merry Christmas, Annie,” said Mikasa. From a few blocks away, they could hear church bells that beckoned midnight. They lay in bed next to each other, Annie’s head propped subtly against Mikasa’s shoulder. 

They fell asleep like that, softly, as Christmas Eve turned into day. The next morning, they would rise, and go to Levi and Petra’s house. Eren and Armin would come over, too, to help cook and set up. 

And in the evening, thought Mikasa, as her thoughts drifted towards oblivion, everyone would come, and it would be like family. And they would be happy, for a few short moments, in this chaotic world. 

She had to admit, though, that Christmas with a misfit family of teenagers, was, unsurprisingly, chaotic. 

She was hardly surprised. 

Under the influence of Christa’s banter and a few shots, Ymir had challenged any and all of them to an arm wrestle. And sure, Ymir looked tough, but even Mikasa hadn’t expected her to be quite this strong. 

That may or may not have been the cause of Eren’s sulking in the corner next to Armin, who was struggling to be a supportive friend instead of laughing at him. 

Annie, who was standing next to Mikasa, her arm wrapped subtly around the latter’s waist, seemed to be enjoying herself in her natural nonchalant way, just watching. But after Ymir bested even Levi, Annie casually slammed down her drink and stalked over. 

“What’s the wager?” she asked as she sat down across from the taller girl. 

“There wasn’t one,” said Ymir contentiously. “But I suppose it will be enough for you to lose that pride of yours.”

Annie smiled patronizingly, and agreed. Christa jumped up and down childishly next to Ymir, hovering over her girlfriend’s shoulder. Ymir seemed to be basking in the attention. 

They grasped hands. 

“One,” said Ymir. 

“Two,” said Annie. 

“Three.”

Both lunged their arms forward at the exact moment, and neither gave an inch of ground nor any indication that they were struggling. They stared into each others eyes, and both were slightly shocked to find equal resistance in the other. 

“Are you guys even trying?” snapped Eren from his corner. It seemed that Levi had joined him after his loss, too, and Armin thought it was quite hilarious. 

Neither contestant replied, but Annie pushed harder. Ymir pushed back. 

Despite herself, Mikasa became increasingly invested in the outcome, and held her breath. Christa had stopped jumping, and was instead staring intensely at the combattants. 

Said combatants, Ymir and Annie, drew back a moment later, shook hands, and agreed, “Tie.”

The room let out a breath. Christa looked disappointed. Ymir looked angry. Annie looked amused, if not a little irked. 

Petra served more drinks from the kitchen, and the tension diffused. At this rate, they were going to need a lot more drinks to make it through the evening. And that was without Connie and Sasha--those two had agreed to come later with Marco and Jean. Already, though, there were quite a number of guests. 

And although it seemed more like a college party than a Christmas party, it was still nice. Really nice. God knows they needed it. 

And she was proud of Levi, because despite the drinks flying around, she and him hadn’t had any. Nor had he smoked in over a month. 

Sure, no story ever ends. But theres was making progress. And life was getting better, today, of all days. 

She watched from the kitchen as Eren finally stopped pouting, and intead had wrapped his arms around Levi’s smaller shoulders. 

“Happy birthday,” murmured Eren in Levi’s ear. “I think I’m in love with you.”

And the corners of Levi’s mouth turned up into a smile that remained long past the kiss they shared on hopeful lips. 

 

 

 

 

Eren,   
I’ve known for a while that I love you. I don’t know how it is that I’m this insanely lucky, but you’re with me. Thank every force of chance that caused our paths to meet. I love you. Merry Christmas.   
Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you have questions for me, please do leave them in the comments. I will consider writing one shots in this established universe, or in the past eruri, we'll see, but let me know if you want anything in particular. Thank you so mch for sticking with me and I can't believe this is it!


End file.
